


Wanheda

by BlueRaith



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because This Story is About Literally Everyone, But with a Twist(TM), Canon Rewrite, Characters Added if Major as They Appear, Except Lexa Dying That Never Happens, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Grounder Clarke Griffin, Lexa and Clarke Live, Most Major Plot Points Happen in Some Capacity, slowest of slow burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:58:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7935430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRaith/pseuds/BlueRaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake Griffin makes a very different choice in who he informs first about the Ark dying. He tells Jaha earlier and conveys just how dangerous the situation is. Unfortunately, Jaha realizes that if Jake Griffin was the only man who noticed the Ark suffocating to a slow death, then he may be key to fixing it as well. With Jake as noble as he is, Jaha uses the only person who could possibly prevent him from revealing the truth to the entire Ark: his daughter, Clarke Griffin. Arrested for an extremely minor crime, Clarke inadvertently makes the situation all the worse for herself because Clarke Griffin never gives up without a fight. The only thing preventing her from floating now is Jaha's personal pardon. A pardon that will only come with Jake and Abby's cooperation. </p><p>The Ark is dying. It is older and weaker than it was 97 years ago. Clarke may just find herself on Earth much sooner than anticipated. And when she does, she finds herself in a world she never imagined, but will have to adapt to in order to survive. The adults are more politically savvy, Clarke is torn between two peoples, Lexa will get peace if she has to drag people kicking and screaming to it, and ALIE strives for perfection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

It was too late. There was nothing else to be done. After nearly a century of retrofitting, repairing, and jury-rigging, there was nothing left to _fix._ It couldn’t be done, Jake Griffin knew that. After almost one hundred years of stubbornly holding on to what they had, holding on to the hopes that they could limp their way to reclaim what they lost, he had learned that it simply couldn’t be done.

They were running out of air.

There had to be a solution. Not one for their oxygen, Jake knew, that was already a foregone conclusion. He instead was hoping for another path. There _had_ to be something they could do. Anything. If there wasn’t, the Ark was going to end up being a toxic to them as the radiation was on the ground. He no longer had any answers, or solutions, or stop measures, Jake was out of options on his own. He needed help, other perspectives, new ideas. There had to be _someone_ on this station that could spot something he couldn’t.

The problem with that, however, was that Jake knew that his news was not one anyone wanted to hear. And that made it dangerous information. Not for him, Jake wasn’t much concerned with what could happen to him. No, he had others to worry about. Two people who could be just as stubborn as he was, if not moreso. And if either of them saw this pending disaster the same way he did, Jake wasn’t going to risk that they could put themselves in danger to spread the news. Or maybe not. Maybe there was at least one person he most wanted to protect who would instead get torn by her duty. Perhaps she would feel as if she had to choose between the truth, a truth _everyone_ deserved to know, and whatever vote the council ultimately decided to go with. He didn’t want that for her either.

Who could he tell then? People deserved to know, Jake was adamant about that, but how could he make _sure_ their future was restored if he acted so rashly that he risked not being around to help? Jake was a man of figures, math, what he could prove, dealing with the _truth_ in other words. Numbers couldn’t lie. The Ark was dying. There was no way to dance around that fact, but he knew that was what people would want to do. What the _council_ would want to do. They wouldn’t want to believe that after all this time, after being so, so careful to preserve their entire people, that it could have all been for nothing. _He_ certainly didn’t want to believe that himself. But Jake also knew that pretending that to problem didn’t exist would be their death sentence anyway. He had to convince someone that putting the entire Ark’s population to an alternative solution was the only way to survive.

And there was only one man who could possibly help him with that without risking who Jake himself feared for.

* * *

 “You want me to do _what?!”_ Marcus huffed out, not loudly, but emphatically enough to convey his disbelief at what the man sitting across from him was asking for.

The chancellor didn’t look any happier than Marcus felt right now. “Marcus, it’s the only way. Jake isn’t going to keep quiet about this, and we need his help. I don’t want to float him, he can still be reasoned with. I don’t even think he’s told Abby about this.”

“Why tell me?” Marcus asked bluntly. “If the council hasn’t been informed, if Jake Griffin came to you on his own, why are you telling me? If he wanted to tell everyone about the Ark’s oxygen, he could have tried to get a message out Ark-wide. It probably wouldn’t work, but Jake’s stubborn enough to try it.”

Thelonious sighed heavily. “That’s _exactly_ what I’m afraid he will do if we don’t get on top of this. He believes that if everyone on the Ark knew, we could all look for a solution together. He doesn’t realize that it would create a panic.”

Marcus grimaced at that. The Griffins were probably the most optimistic people he knew. Dr. Griffin was a bit more reasonable about potential risks than her husband was, but Jake Griffin liked to believe the best of people. Unfortunately, he was not head of the guard. He didn’t see the kinds of people Marcus saw. The sort that never seemed to understand that they all lived up here _together._ And that they could not afford to be selfish. If they did what Jake wanted, it wouldn’t matter that they were running out of air. Riots could break out. People would revolt out of desperation, and if they did, there was no where to go in space. The Ark was all they had. Crime was not tolerated on the Ark out of necessity. They did not have the space for it, nor the resources. And if they could not afford even the most petty of thieves on the Ark, they could hardly afford rebellions, looting, or anarchy.

“Then we keep an eye on him,” Marcus said after a long pause. “We keep an eye on the Arks comm systems. If he tries anything, then I’ll move in. I can’t arrest an innocent—”

“She isn’t. It’s not anything serious. She would win her review if you do this, and would get released back into the Ark once she comes of age. We need Jake to figure this out. Abby will notice the health issues long-term oxygen deprivation will cause sooner rather than later, and we’re going to need her too to treat them. Neither of them will risk Clarke’s review. I have to think of our people Marcus. Do what is best for us all. You know that,” Thelonious said bitterly.

He did. Marcus studied the man sitting in front of him. Thelonious Jaha had long since been a man who Marcus feared could not make the hard choices. Those that the Ark required to survive. He thought Jaha was too soft. Yet, here he was, practically ordering him to arrest his own best friend’s daughter. Still, the order didn’t sit comfortably with Marcus. He would essentially be arresting a child for her father’s _potential_ crimes. What was worse, was that Marcus had no knowledge of Clarke Griffin breaking any of their laws whatsoever. The girl had been long considered a model citizen. Certainly, Marcus didn’t think she would be beyond bending the rules, what with who her parents were, but if Marcus wasn’t aware of any crimes she could have possibly committed. If _Jaha_ knew something before he did, Marcus could only conclude that whatever Clarke had done, as innocent as it probably was, Jaha had known about it, and had chosen to look the other way.

Until now.

And they both knew that the Ark could not afford criminals, of even the most petty caliber. He would be well within the law to put her in the Skybox if she had stepped even _slightly_ out of line. And even if they couldn’t afford crime, the Ark was not completely ruthless. If this was as innocent as Thelonious claimed, Clarke could be ‘rehabilitated’ as a minor during lockup. He wouldn’t be condemning a relatively innocent girl to die for her father’s actions.

He hoped.

“What did she do?” He asked, trying not to rub his face in frustration.

Thelonious leaned forward on the table, face nearly as hard as stone. “She and Wells have been siphoning rationed materials. Drawing supplies mostly. I know you probably realized by now that I’ve been looking the other way. Out of all the rations they could be stealing those were probably the _least_ possibly important. I want you to arrest them both. The Griffins are hardly stupid. They will realize what I’m doing by arresting Clarke. I don’t want them turning against me in their anger, even if I deserve it. So, I will be sacrificing exactly what I’m asking _them_ to.”

Marcus tried not to think about how they were now risking _two_ kids’ lives because of their parents. Survival was won on the back of sacrifice. It wasn’t pleasant, it wasn’t nice, but it was the truth. He hated it. More than most would probably realize, Marcus was well aware of his reputation on the Ark. But he would do his duty, do what was best for the Ark. If the Ark needed Jake and Abby Griffin badly enough to use their own daughter as blackmail against them, then he would do it.

He tried not to think about the fact that _he_ wasn’t being asked to sacrifice anything.

* * *

 Her mother had been agitated all day. Clarke had tried to ask her what was wrong. It had started when a girl came into the clinic earlier in the day. She had been complaining of headaches and vision loss. Clarke hadn’t known what was wrong, and even as she observed her mother’s examination, Abby had failed to properly explain the girl’s ailments like she usually would. It was obviously serious, her mother had spoken with the girl’s father alone, and never explained to Clarke what was wrong after they had left. And then pretended everything was fine. Clarke wasn’t fooled. Abby had her tells, and Clarke knew more than a few of them. Furrowed brow, jaw slightly tightened, and narrowed eyes, it was obvious her mother wasn’t happy, and that things weren’t ‘fine.’

So that meant there was only one thing she could possibly do.

Eavesdrop.

There was only one person her mother ever confided with, and that was her father. Clarke couldn’t blame her. Her dad was a pretty good listener. But with how _small_ the Ark was, it made it _very_ easy to listen into conversations she probably shouldn’t hear. Her mother was so preoccupied, she had failed to shut the door to Jake’s work area in their quarters, and Clarke waited around the corner to hear exactly what had been plaguing Abby all day.

“What’s wrong with the Ark’s oxygen levels, Jake?” Abby jumped right in, never one to beat around the bush.

Clarke had to bite her lip to keep herself from giving away her position. Life support had issues off and on over the years. Everyone knew that. Her father and his team had been able to fix the problem every time it had come up. But, Clarke was not ever aware of a time they had done so and her dad not saying anything. Her parents liked to trade tales of their workdays, not bothering to hold the terminology of their work back. Whoever was the first to ask what it was the other was talking about in plain English lost the game. Clarke lost a _lot_ before she was old enough to shadow her mother in the clinic. Even if she couldn’t understand a work of her dad’s engineering work, she at least could team up against him with her mom.

Jake didn’t answer her for several moments, and Clarke knew then that this was far more serious than it had been before.

“I’ve had six kids come into the clinic showing symptoms of long-term oxygen deprivation over the past month. They’re going to go _blind_ if nothing changes,” Abby continued, impatient for his answer.

“It’s not going to change,” Jake said heavily. “I can’t fix it this time, Abby. The Ark’s life support systems are going through a critical failure. They’re too old, we don’t have the materials to properly replace parts that should have been scrapped decades ago. We have about two years of air left if we’re lucky.”

The silence to this news was so great, Clarke thought her parents would discover her just from her heavy breathing. Two years? _If_ they were lucky? Everyone knew that it would take another one hundred years before the ground was livable again. If her dad was right, and he was right about just about everything when it came to his job, then….

“How long have you known about this?” Her mother asked roughly.

“I suspected for a few months, confirmed it a few weeks ago. Why hasn’t Thelonious told you? He said he would be having a meeting today,” Jake said, and Clarke didn’t have to imagine her father’s frown.

“No, we didn’t have a meeting. Why didn’t you tell _me?”_

“You’re on the council. I didn’t want to make you choose if it came to that. Thelonious… we don’t really see eye to eye about what we should do. People need to know about this. We can’t lie to them, it’s not right. Maybe there’s someone out there that can think of something I haven’t. Maybe there isn’t, and they should know anyway to face what’s coming.”

“And he doesn’t want to tell anyone yet,” her mother guessed. “He’s right, it would cause widespread panic.”

“Or it could bring everyone together,” her father came as close to snapping at Abby as Clarke has ever heard him.

“You can’t tell them! Think about Clarke!”

“I _am_ thinking about Clarke!”

Clarke heard her mother take in a sharp breath before she continued. “No, think about what would happen if you went behind Thelonious’s back with this. He’d float you. It would crush her.”

Her thoughts started racing too quickly to hear her dad’s response. Clarke knew her father, she knew that Abby knew her husband. He was going to do what he thought was right. That realization had Clarke’s heart racing so quickly it ached. The potential price her father could pay echoed through her thoughts over and over again.

Dimly, Clarke heard a _hiss_ travel from the front of their quarters. The front door, Clarke had locked it….

“Clarke?” Her father, investigating the noise, stopped abruptly when he found her right outside the door. His confusion turned to sinking realization as he quickly concluded that she would have heard everything he and Abby were talking about.

But voices soon invaded their quarters, tearing him away from whatever he was going to tell her. Clarke couldn’t keep from jumping as she felt her mother touch her shoulder, but that too had to wait as bulky and awkwardly armored guardsmen burst into their quarters where they could see them. Marcus Kane, a man Clarke knew her mother hardly saw eye to eye with right behind them.

“Jake, what did you do?” Abby asked fearfully.

“Nothing—”

The nearest guardsman forcefully pushed Jake aside, and clamped onto Clarke’s arm in a vise-like grip. Abby’s furious cry shattered the stunned hold over Clarke’s body as she realized the same thing her mother did.

They had come for _her_.

Clarke kicked out instinctively as hard as she could, catching the man in the stomach. It was useless, a part of her knew, there was nowhere to go in the Ark, nowhere to run. But the choking gasp the guard made as he fell to the floor was oddly satisfying. He released her arm to clutch at his stomach, and before another could take his place, Abby pulled Clarke behind her with a rough yank to the arm she held. Clarke couldn’t fault her for the rough treatment right now.

“What are you doing?!” Abby demanded, fury lacing every word. “She hasn’t done anything!”

Kane stepped up, face impassive and impossible to read. “Clarke Griffin is under arrest for stealing rations. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He gave them all a hard look in turn, probably knowing that neither Clarke nor her parents were about to just let this happen.

“Stealing….” Her father started before storming as close to Kane as the nearest guard who wasn’t gasping for air would allow him to. “She hasn’t done anything! This is about me, isn’t it? Thelonious sent you for her! Kane—”

Jake was cut off as Kane grasped him by the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. Clarke could see his lips moving, but could hear nothing. She couldn’t see her father’s face either, but whatever Kane was telling him had Jake tense tightly before slumping as he was released. To Clarke’s growing dread, he turned to face them, jaw tense and face pale.

“Abby,” he said quietly. “We have to let her go.”

“Dad!” Clarke burst out, in complete disbelief that this was happening. How could her father even _think_ that she had done something? Sure, she and Wells had been sneaking a few pencils off the top of the pile every now and then, but getting arrested for it?

Her mother seemed even less keen on this idea than even Clarke was. Her grip on Clarke’s arm tightened even further, but Clarke could scarcely feel the pain, too preoccupied with what could happen if her mother was actually holding her more loosely.

“What did he say to you?” Abby demanded. “Jake, _what did he say?!”_

He stepped closer to them both, and put his hand over Abby’s tightly clenched grip over Clarke’s arm. “Listen to me. This doesn’t have anything to do with you, Clarke,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. This is about me. If you go with them now, Jaha will clear you in your review.”

 _“Jaha?”_ Abby hissed out. “He’s arresting Clarke in the _first place._ I don’t—”

Clarke could easily imagine the kind of betrayal her mother was going through, Clarke was feeling it right now on two fronts. “Dad, I don’t want to go.”

They were apparently taking too long. The guards started to move in, and Clarke, in complete disbelief, watched blankly as her father’s hand—wrist watch flashing in the sterile lights of the Ark—forcibly pulled Abby’s hand from her.

She had no idea what anyone else was shouting now. Just that her mother was shouting, the guards were shouting, but Clarke could not hear the words. She was too busy screaming herself as one of the guards started to haul her away. Not in terror, well maybe a little terror, but in rage.

 _“I’ll tell them all!”_ She shouted out. _“I’ll scream it from here to the Skybox!”_

“Clarke!” Jake started, face even paler than it was before, but Clarke couldn’t bring herself to care. In fact, his fear made her feel even angrier.

 _“THE ARK!”_ She bellowed. _“IT’S RUNNING OUT OF—”_

Her entire body seized painfully before going limp. Blearily, Clarke could see the arcing light of a stun stick in Kane’s hand as her vision wavered. With her last few moments of awareness, Clarke’s gaze lolled towards her parents. Both of them look stricken, her father holding her struggling mother back. Clarke forced herself to focus one last time, a final effort to deliver one last glare laced with enough betrayal and anger towards her father. It had enough heat to force his eyes to the metal floor as the guards hauled her rapidly unconscious body away.

* * *

 Abby went limp after the door closed behind Kane and her daughter. How had this happened? She knew the answer to that. He currently had his arms wrapped around her waist in an unforgiving grip. Jake released her after a long moment of complete and terrible silence, probably sure now that she wasn’t going to chase after Kane and get herself floated for attacking a fellow council member and head of the guard. Abby wasn’t going to do that, he could be sure of that. The bitterness came easily to her, knowing that there was nothing she could do for Clarke right now. She had been outmaneuvered by Jaha, Kane, and Jake himself from protecting her daughter.

She wasn’t going to chase after Clarke. Getting floated wasn’t going to protect her now. Abby would find another way. Starting by stepping shakily away from her husband and slapping him loudly across the face. He let it happen, and the anger fueled slap had her feeling worse than she had before. Neither had ever raised a hand to the other in their marriage, but it seemed like this was a night of firsts all around in their relationship. Keeping secrets, betraying their daughter, hitting him wasn’t the worst thing that had happened today, was it? No, that honor went to poor Clarke, getting thrown into the Skybox, overhearing something that could easily get her killed, and getting shock lashed for good measure.

But that knowledge still did not erase the guilt she felt for hitting him. Abby wasn’t sure if she wanted it to.

Instead she turned away from Jake. Tears were threatening her vision, but she wouldn’t allow them to fall. Not yet. Abby needed to speak with someone before that happened, and she was not going to allow herself to show anything but her abject rage while confronting this person.

“Abby?” Jake asked quietly as she made her way to the door. “Where are you going?”

The lump in her throat made it too hard to speak with him right now, so she decided to ignore him. Before she could press her hand to the door control, however, Jake’s hand was over hers, and pulling her back gently.

“We can’t do anything for her right now, Abby. Don’t go after them.”

He was pleading with her.

 _“Don’t,”_ she nearly sobbed out. “Don’t….” She trailed off, before taking in a hitching breath. “I’m not going after them. I’m doing what you should have done _instead_ of risking our daughter’s life.”

Jake stepped back from her, looking more hurt than when she hit him. This she felt a little better about.

“We didn’t have a choice,” he said miserably. “Kane, he told me this was the only way Thelonious could keep me quiet without floating me. That Clarke would be released when she turned eighteen—”

“I don’t _trust Thelonious!”_ Abby shouted. “He’s using Clarke to _blackmail_ you. To blackmail us!”

“I know that!” Jake shouted back. “I _know,_ Abby. I don’t trust him either, but what else could I do?! Tell me, because I _want_ that. I want a better way! If we didn’t let them take Clarke, Kane could have arrested all of us for assaulting members of the guard. Clarke _already_ assaulted a member of the guard. We can only hope that he doesn’t include that in his report, that it doesn’t put Clarke’s review in jeopardy. We both could have gotten floated today, Abby. And if that happened, who would be left to protect Clarke? Jaha’s betrayed us, Clarke would have been alone.”

Helpless anger and fear bubbled through her veins. There _was_ no other way. Thelonious probably instructed Kane to arrest Clarke in their quarters and in front of them for a reason. That reason being to let them both know, in no uncertain terms, that whatever they did from here until now would be affecting whether or not their daughter would be returned to them. Whether or not she would be _executed_ for ‘stealing.’ Abby very much doubted the legitimacy of Clarke’s charges. Her daughter’s life was on the line, hedged against them in order to keep them in line. The knowledge had Abby simmering bitterly. If Kane hadn’t been able to take Clarke now, he would have done so eventually.

That fact wasn’t so easy to compartmentalize right now though. Clarke ripped away from her so soon, by Jake himself no less. It was going to take some time for Abby to even consider forgiving him. She needed time. For now, though….

For now, Abby had a mission.

Jake didn’t let her leave alone. Maybe he wasn’t sure she wasn’t going after Clarke, maybe he felt as bereft as she did right now, either way Abby didn’t allow herself to dwell on it. Instead, she stormed to another section of private quarters in Alpha Station, intent on getting to the man who had caused this in the first place. As she finally got to the correct door, Abby practically banged on it as hard as she could. She could see passerby give her strange looks at the mild disturbance she was causing, but she didn’t care. All she knew was that Jaha better open the damn door before she started _screaming_ out here. And god help him if that were to happen.

Fortunately for them all, the door did _hiss_ open. Abby shot in quickly, stalking to the man she once considered a friend. Thelonious was sitting at his desk, face hardened, and rubbing a chess piece in his hand. He didn’t look at her as she stood before him.

 _“Why?”_ Abby ground out.

“It was the only way,” Jaha said emotionlessly.

Her husband stiffened beside her, and if Abby doubted he was as angry about this as she was, she didn’t now. “‘The only way?’” Jake repeated dubiously. “Thelonious, you just _arrested_ Clarke for _my_ actions! Or the _threat_ of my actions! I haven’t even made a move to tell the Ark!”

“Yet,” Jaha added with a humorless chuckle. “Jake, I know you. You would have done what you thought was right. We can’t afford that anymore. The Ark is dying. I’m taking your data as seriously as I possibly can. I need you _here,_ Jake. Not floated for treason. If you can’t fix it, then we need another solution. Abby, we need you in medical to deal with the fallout from oxygen deprivation. The Ark can’t afford to lose either of you. Not if we plan to ever get humanity back on Earth again. I have to think about our _people._ Clarke… and Wells, neither of them can help the Ark. They can only keep _us_ motivated to do whatever we can to ensure our people survive. Jake, you told me we have two years of air left. Clarke is sixteen. She has two years before her review. If either of you can find, or even _help_ us find a way out of certain death, your daughter will be pardoned of all her crimes.”

“Wells?” Abby breathed out in a mixture of disgust and horror. Had… did he just practically admit that he was risking his _own son’s life_ to floating too?

“Crimes?” Jake demanded in unison with her.

Jaha sighed and looked them both in the eye. “Yes. Wells and Clarke’s original crime was stealing art supplies. It was never much, but enough to make their arrests legitimate. Clarke, unfortunately, now has charges of assault and treason against her.” He huffed at them. “Don’t give me that look Abby. Kane was going to tell me everything that happened today. I ordered him to. As much as you hate the man, his actions today were on _my_ orders. He didn’t even want to do it.

“Nevertheless, Wells can easily pass his review without my intervention. Clarke will need much more than that now. The only way she won’t get floated, as per the Exodus Charter, will be from my personal pardon. And that can’t happen unless one of you gives me a something to work with. No going public with the life support status, Jake. Abby, I expect you to act just as you usually do in council meetings. I don’t by any means expect us to always agree in them, but you won’t be voting against measures simply to revolt against me. Or openly hate me. People can’t know of our arrangement here. If they ever suspect that my pardon of Clarke is anything more than my exercising a tool of office, then the council could overturn her pardon with a vote. Do your jobs like as well as you always have, if not better. We will need as much as you can give us to save everyone we possibly can.”

Abby practically had to force herself not to vomit at what she was hearing. Clarke…. “You knew she wouldn’t go quietly,” she said. Her tone was calm, belying the gut wrenching horror she felt at just how far her former friend had gone to back her daughter into this corner.

“Clarke made her own choices today,” Thelonious told them.

“Stop talking, Thelonious,” Abby growled out, calmness passing her at his gall. “Clarke was just as frightened as you knew she would be. You _knew_ she would fight back. You _counted on it!_ We practically raised our children together, you knew _exactly_ what she would do. We’re done, Thelonious. I’ll play nice, god forbid you use a dirty look from me to justify _executing my kid._ But I swear to you that I’m never going to forget this. A day will come when I make you answer for what you’ve done today. I promise you that.”

She didn’t wait for Jaha to respond, didn’t wait to see if Jake would follow her. He probably was. Abby just knew that she needed to get away from this man. If she didn’t, she’d probably throttle him from over his damned desk, and then Clarke would lose her only way out of getting floated. She _hated_ Jaha in this moment. Probably always would. She didn’t trust him, and never would again. But, as much as she resented it, Abby knew that Clarke had a _slim_ chance at the moment of Thelonious keeping his word. That was better than what the foregone review would get her over crimes like assault and _treason._ The last nearly had her spitting as trumped up as that charge was. Clarke had been angry and frightened, she didn’t deserve to die over that.

Abby didn’t trust the man she thought had been her friend. She wouldn’t leave Clarke’s life to him, she promised herself this now. She would find her own way to save her daughter’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Clarke feels betrayed by Jake instead of Abby this time around. Don't worry, she and Abby won't be getting along perfectly in this fic either. They're far too similar to each other to ever not drive each other crazy. I plan to explore just how complicated their little family dynamic will get in as fair a manner to all three characters as possible. There's a side to every story, after all. Every character can be an unreliable narrator if they're biased towards certain topics.
> 
> I also hope I did Marcus justice. I like the guy. Even when he was a dick in early season one. He believed he was doing what was best, even if it was shitty and he eventually sees the error of his ways sooner rather than later. Unfortunately to the tune of 320 lives. I want to give the guy the conscience he obviously cultivates in canon.


	2. Two

The numbers were never going to change, no matter how many times he looked at them. Jake had to force the embittered frustration down before it could make him do anything rash. The days since Clarke’s arrest felt as if they were melting together. Another day she wasn’t home, another day he replayed that last look she gave him before getting dragged away, another day of Abby sleeping in their daughter’s room. Time was moving slowly, achingly slowly. But it _was_ moving, and each passing second that trickled away in which he did not have a solution, was one more second the Ark stepped closer to taking its last breath. One less second Clarke had.

Jaha had effectively stripped him of any plans to get any aid. Now, all Jake had was the same data set that had caused all this in the first place. The same data that explicitly spelled out the end of humanity. The same data set that trumped him hour after hour. Jake simply had _no idea_ how to fix it. Didn’t he tell Thelonious, over and over again, that there was _nothing to fix?_ Yet, it seemed the man expected Jake to pull a miracle out of his ass for him. For the ‘people,’ Jaha would claim, but Jake now doubted every word his former friend ever spoke about caring for _the people._ No, what Jake _really_ wanted, was to pull a miracle out of his ass for _Clarke._ It was his fault she was in the Skybox. His fault that she felt threatened enough to lash out at the guard. If nothing could be done, if he couldn’t find a way, Clarke would be floated. And Jake could no longer say whether he knew Jaha well enough to know if he wouldn’t be petty enough to float her before they all suffocated.

There was a smart _rap_ on his door, interrupting the hopeless thoughts he was mired in. He was currently in Engineering, pouring uselessly over the life-support systems at Jaha’s request. No one should be disturbing him at the moment, Jaha had apparently seen to it that Jake would have privacy to concentrate on his work. Or pull away any temptation to let the secret out, more likely.

“Hey!” A female voice called out from behind the door. “Come on, Griffin, I know you’re in there. Don’t make me deal with Wick. He’s an idiot.”

Jake couldn’t say that he wasn’t interested in learning whoever was behind the door. Jake—at the ‘suggestion’ of Jaha—had left uncharacteristically strict instructions not to be disturbed. Whoever this girl was, she obviously wasn’t one for following authority. Something Jake could more than empathize with right now.

So, he palmed the door control, and it slid open to reveal a girl, not much older than Clarke. She was glaring at him, seemingly unimpressed with the time it took him to answer her.

“Ugh, finally!” She rolled her eyes. “I thought I was going to have to wire your door open. There’s only so much dumb I can take at once.”

“Yeah, good talking to you too, Reyes,” Wick called out from somewhere behind her.

Jake knew this girl. Not personally, but he remembered Sinclair mentioning something about a stubborn, and apparently brilliant, kid he wanted badly enough to override her physical.

“Miss Reyes, I’m a little tied up right now,” he told her.

“Just Raven’s good. Look, Griffin, I’m sure whatever it is that has Wick trying to keep me from you is important and all, but I’m here to make sure nobody on the Ark dies from radiation poisoning. You know, we live next door to the sun. No atmosphere, nothing but this metal junk heap to separate us from our skin melting off. There are some solar reflectors on Alpha Station that have gone out, but _apparently_ death by skin melting isn’t enough of an excuse to authorize a spacewalk for me to fix them. I was _hoping_ you could get with Doc Griffin or _somebody_ on the council to convince them this stuff is more than a little important,” she ranted at him right off the bat.

Well, that was a little more urgent than the Ark’s life support. Jake frowned at what Raven telling him all the same though. He had no idea any of the solar reflectors had failed. Especially on Alpha Station. As much as he hated it, the Ark did have an unspoken priority towards certain stations. Usually directly correlated to _who_ was living in those stations. Regardless of the politics, this was something he should have known.

“How do you—”

“Sinclair doesn’t always remember to log off on his computer, saw some reports. Some numbers were off. Did the math myself, and trust me I _don’t_ get math wrong, and it’s all adding up to a problem with the solar reflectors. Don’t you live on Alpha Station? Seriously, you’re gonna start feeling pretty crappy sooner rather than later,” Raven told him before he could even get a word in edgewise.

She pushed a tablet at him insistently, and Jake decided she wasn’t going to be leaving until he had given her at least some of his attention. He looked over Sinclair’s report, the work Raven apparently did, and felt the frown he already had pull his mouth even tighter. Raven’s concern was obviously long-term. The reflectors hadn’t yet reached a point that people would be dying of radiation sickness for several months at the _least,_ but it was still important, Jake could agree with her that it was better to solve this problem before it could get to that point.

However, what truly screamed out at him was the inexplicable truth that the Ark was falling apart around them at the seams. Even if Jake _could_ fix their oxygen problem, what then? None of the stations were ever designed to last this long. They were meant to be supported by whichever old world governments originally created them. New manufactured parts were supposed to be sent from the ground, replacement modules, upgrades, supplies. There were _many_ things the Ark simply could not create by itself. They didn’t have the space for it, nor were the bombs ever anticipated to end the world. _No one_ really knew just how bad things were going to get. Jake could tell that simply by looking at some of the design choices several of the original station engineers made. They practically _oozed_ of bureaucratic budget cuts. Cut corners, save costs. After all, they never expected to be housing the last of humanity, there was no reason to go overboard with some systems, right?

In short, it the Ark was not going to make it for another hundred years. It was physically incapable of doing so.

Jake regarded Raven closely, she was watching him impatiently to come to the same conclusions she had. In a way, her pushiness reminded him of Clarke, and the resemblance made his chest ache. He pushed the thought aside forcibly.

“The council isn’t going to authorize anything unless we can prove any radiation coming through is harming anyone,” Jake finally said.

Raven huffed irritably. “Great. I don’t know about you, but I’m not exactly a… doctor….” Her eyes gained a clever gleam to them as she caught on to exactly what they needed to do. “You think Dr. Griffin has a way to figure that out?”

He handed Raven’s tablet back to her, already stepping past her. Jake _could_ send Raven to Abby with his concerns, but this was the first thing in days that he could actually _address._ It was refreshing, and Jake needed this for his sanity. “Probably. Let’s ask her.”

* * *

 She wasn’t giving as much of her attention to her patients as she probably should be. How could she? Abby _had_ to find a way to get Clarke out of the mess she was in. The mess they were _all_ in.

And she had no ideas.

Thelonious had backed them in a corner. It was so frustrating, Abby had actually considered skipping the next council meeting in order to avoid doing something she really shouldn’t the next time she saw him. Of course, Thelonious apparently considered her participation in the council mandatory for Clarke’s pardon.

She _hated_ that she even had to do anything for Clarke’s pardon. She hated that Clarke even _needed_ a pardon in the first place. None of this should have happened. Abby had been avoiding Jake since their daughter had been taken. It was probably cowardly, but she couldn’t deal with the emotions that bubbled up every time she saw him. She was _so_ angry with him, and worse yet, right after the anger crashed through her when she thought of him, guilt nipped at her stomach. Clarke was being punished because she had simply been related to Jake.

And Jake was being punished because he thought he could trust a friend.

Abby wasn’t blind. She knew who was really at fault for this, she knew that Jake would _never_ have done anything to knowingly put their daughter in danger. Unfortunately, it seemed her heart just wasn’t cooperating with the logic. She couldn’t forget the way Jake had pulled her away from Clarke, couldn’t forget the way Clarke had screamed as she was pulled away, how she had _looked_ at them. Even if it had been the only option, even if Thelonious had backed them into a corner, Abby still felt the sharp sting of betrayal at how Jake had given Clarke up. And she didn’t _want_ to. She had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t going to get past this until she and Jake could find a way to get Clarke safe.

The problem with that being that Abby could barely talk to Jake right now.

“Abby?”

Her eyes shut for a moment at that voice. Of course, one of the two people haunting her thoughts would find his way to her, even if she wasn’t ready to deal with him right now.

Jake knew her well enough to realize that she needed space. He had been more than willing to give that space to her since Clarke’s arrest as well. The man had the patience of a saint. He wouldn’t have sought her out unless it was important, so Abby knew that she needed to take a deep breath and shelve her conflicted feelings for now. For all she knew, he could have an idea to save Clarke.

“Jake,” she said as she turned, then frowned at the realization that Jake hadn’t come to see her alone.

So this wasn’t about Clarke, then.

“Hey, Doc,” the girl didn’t allow any sort of heavy silence fall over them, as had been customary for all of Abby and Jake’s conversations over the past several days. Instead, she stepped forward immediately, getting right down to whatever she was here for. “Got any way to tell if anybody has symptoms for radiation sickness?”

She did, they lived in a space station, radiation monitoring was to be expected. But it was an extremely random request, especially coming from Jake. He didn’t like to come to the clinic if he didn’t have to. Not that he was particularly opposed to doctors, it would be ironic if he was, but that he just generally got too caught up in whatever he was doing to worry about something like a cold. Whether that was his work, Clarke, or something else.

“What’s this about?” Abby asked in lieu of answering the question. She figured Jake would make the connection that Abby expected to be in whatever loop he was in from now on. No more secrets. Especially ones that led to their daughter getting taken from them in a split second.

“Raven’s discovered a problem with some of the solar reflectors on Alpha Station. Radiation will be leaking through Alpha’s hull, but the council isn’t going to believe it’s a priority unless it’s posing a real health risk. Spacewalks have been reduced. Something about a kid going on an adrenaline trip and wasting three months of air,” Jake told her. “The problem is that if the council decides to ignore it now, the leak is only going to grow exponentially. It’s just better all around if we fix this before it even becomes an issue.”

“How long has this leak been there?” Abby asked, feeling more than a little puzzled. She hadn’t gotten anyone in the clinic sporting any signs of radiation sickness. Granted, very slight radiation sickness had symptoms that masqueraded as a relatively simple illness. Still, if Alpha Station had a radiation leak, she _should_ have seen an increase of patients just from that particular station. Chances were that she would displayed symptoms herself considering her family’s quarters there, let alone Jake and Clarke.

Raven shrugged, a slight redness to her cheeks that Abby couldn’t guess the reasoning for. “A few weeks at least. Enough time to make _someone_ sick somewhere. It’ll get worse the longer we don’t do something about it.”

Abby turned to her computer, pulling up patient records and taking a quick glance. The Ark’s population was less than a paltry few thousand. Spread that population out through twelve different stations, and it meant that the few dozens of patients Abby did see in a day were well spread out between the stations relatively equally, discounting injuries from places like Mecha Station. Actual illness epidemics were rare on the Ark. Influenza typically being her greatest concern. There haven’t been any outbreaks recently. One quick count confirmed Abby’s suspicions. She’d only had a little over ten patients from Alpha Station visit the clinic over the past month. That wasn’t _nearly_ enough to merit a concern.

Yet, if radiation _had_ been leaking through the Ark’s hull anywhere in the station for a few _weeks…._ Even if the dose was small, it would still accumulate. Abby should have had more patients than she did. It didn’t make any sense.

“Are you _sure_ there’s a leak? And that’s it’s been there for that long?” Abby asked them.

Raven almost seemed to bristle at her doubt and she drew herself up. _“Of course,_ I’m sure, Doc. You think I would have brought this up if it wasn’t important? I’m good at what I do, trust me, we have a problem.”

Jake stepped forward, placating grin on his face towards the girl. “Abby, I looked over her work, it’s good. Why do you think it wouldn’t be?”

He wasn’t accusatory, just curious at what she had to have found in her records.

“My patient counts don’t match up with you’re both saying,” Abby said, shrugging. “If the leak’s over a wide enough area, I should have gotten more than ten patients from Alpha Station over the past month complaining at the very _least_ of vomiting and nausea. As it is, Alpha’s in a pretty good place right now, probably one of the more healthier populations at the moment.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Raven said, trading confused look with Jake. “There are enough faulty reflectors on Alpha to cover a pretty good chunk of the private quarters. People _should_ have been getting sick. I mean, they aren’t and, yeah, that’s a good thing, but it doesn’t match the data.”

“The leak isn’t potent, but it covers a wide area,” Jake confirmed. “Covers our quarters, in fact.”

Well, then there was really only one way to find out definitively if there was a problem. “Jake, come here,” Abby said, finding a fresh syringe and pulling on some gloves. One pinprick and a blood sample was all Abby needed to get to the bottom of this.

The analysis wouldn’t take long. They lived in space, radiation was not a _common_ concern, but it was notable enough to merit software designed to detect it quickly. Or, at least it _was._ Abby honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anyone in the clinic suffering from radiation poisoning, mild or otherwise. She knew that it was an obstacle for space travel in humanity’s early spaceflight endeavors, long before the bombs, but she had assumed that the stations that made up the Ark had long since been designed well enough to make radiation a non-issue. That was certainly how it seemed given the lack of patients with that particular ailment.

Her tablet popped up with a notification indicating the analysis was finished.

Abby couldn’t make sense of what she was reading. Well, she _could,_ but it simply didn’t make sense with what she and all the other doctors on the Ark had long been taught about humanity’s resistance to radiation.

“Don’t leave us in suspense, Doc,” Raven piped up after several tense moments.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Abby finally spoke what she was thinking. “There isn’t even a _sign_ that you have anemia, Jake. Yet there are radiation particles in your blood anyway. It’s like your circulatory system is filtering it out…. Raven, where do you live?”

Raven was giving her a puzzled look. “Mecha, and before you ask, its reflectors are fine. The only way I’m getting dosed with any rads are in my spacewalks, and all my physicals have come back clean.”

There weren’t many spacewalkers, let alone spacewalkers named Raven. It didn’t take long for Abby to pull up her medical records and become even more stumped by what she saw. She pulled up several spacewalkers’ records. By all accounts, she or _anyone_ in medical should have noticed this sooner. It seemed that their main concern at the time of any spacewalker’s after-mission physical was whether or not they had received any significant ill effects of radiation, period. If they hadn’t, they moved on. Yet, several of the more experienced, and therefore older, spacewalkers _should_ have received high enough doses over a long enough time period to have been retired. There was only so much rads a person could handle safely, yet it seemed for _most_ that that line had never been reached.

Of course, what she was seeing was by no means an _immunity_ to radiation, that was impossible. A large enough dose would overcome the immune system and kill practically anything. No, this was a resistance to it. Much higher than Abby could have ever anticipated. Much higher than she had been taught a human could handle.

Most of their medical knowledge about the human body came from _before_ the bombs. Doctors on the Ark had long ago determined that in order to survive on Earth again, two hundred years had to pass before the half-life of those bombs would be degraded enough for humans to survive there again.

But those humans, the ones every chart and measure those doctors would have used as controls were from a century ago, they would have come from the _ground._ From _before_ the bombs, _before_ humanity would have been forced to live in space longer than several years.

“Abby, what’s wrong?” Jake asked, pulling her from her revelation.

“Nothing,” she breathed. “That’s what’s wrong. There’s _nothing_ wrong with you. Or with any of the spacewalkers. One hundred years ago, over half of them would have been retired already because they would have received too much radiation from accumulated exposure over multiple spacewalks. Most of them have hit limits that would have made humans sick if not worse one hundred years ago. There haven’t been any Alpha Station residents complaining about radiation sickness because it’s now impossible for us to get sick from that level of exposure. We’ve lived up here for generations, enough time for our population to develop a resistance to radiation that is inherently present in _space.”_

“Wait,” Raven said, quickly catching on. “You’re saying that we’re better at filtering radiation than humans were back before the Ark joined together…. They would have had a lower tolerance because they were born on Earth pre-Shit Day.”

“Yes,” Abby confirmed. “Everything they would have decided on whether the Earth could ever be habitable again, when we could go back, it’s all based on figures and medical knowledge that was true for _them._ They never took into account how people on the Ark would adapt to life in space.”

Jake looked at her then, and she could see in his eyes that he felt the exact same hesitant emotion in his heart. One that Abby dare not voice in fear of losing it before she could become used to the idea. The idea that Clarke could possibly have a way out that didn’t include trusting a man she hated.

“We might not need two years,” Jake breathed, stunned by the possibility before them.

Raven looked at him oddly. “Two years for what?”

They ignored her, too caught up in the potential discovery. “I’m not _certain_ yet. I need more data to be sure. More blood tests from Alpha Station. Leave the reflectors for now. No one is going to be significantly harmed from the amount of radiation it’s currently leaking. I’d rather not use anyone as unwitting test subjects, but we don’t have a lot of options and certainly no time to test this like we usually would, which would probably take years and countless council votes to approve,” Abby tried not to show the grimace threatening at her lips. They didn’t have time for bureaucracy right now. _Clarke_ didn’t have time for it. Jake was _certain_ the Ark was dying. And if it couldn’t be fixed, then that meant the _only_ place left for them to go was the ground they had fled from in the very beginning.

“Why do I get the feeling you two know something big?” Raven asked irritably. “No time for _what?_ We’re stuck in a space station that doesn’t go anywhere. And we’re going to stay up here for another hundred years. I’m not a doctor, but I’m _pretty sure_ it wouldn’t take you a century to figure this out, Doc. If you’re even half as smart as most people think you are, then that means we _can’t_ stay up here for another hundred years, doesn’t it?” Raven laughed outright at the shocked looks she and Jake gave her. How…? “Hey, I’m pretty damn awesome, guys. Enough to notice that this piece of junk we live in isn’t as put together as people would like to pretend. How much time are we talking till it falls apart completely? You said two years, Griffin, right?”

Abby could see the decision Jake made in that second in his eyes. For probably the first time since Clarke had been taken, Abby couldn’t find herself disagreeing with him. She had once been certain that telling the entire Ark about their looming crisis wasn’t a smart move. It probably still wasn’t. But, she could see Jake’s point now more than she ever had before. How could one doctor and a single engineer hope to fix something that couldn’t be changed? They couldn’t, and they had more than the concept of the survival of the human race on their shoulders. This was made _personal_ for them in a way they would have never imagined. Abby was _far_ beyond the point of adhering to orders now. She would do what she had to in order to save her daughter. It was what she’d promised herself.

“Raven, you can’t tell _anyone_ about what I’m going to tell you,” Jake told her gravely.

“Yeah, you’re probably on the council’s orders to fix this, huh? Look, I’m not a huge fan of the council, but I don’t really want to die up here either. If I can help, and I _can,_ you don’t have to worry about me saying anything. Not like I have anyone _to_ say anything to anyway,” she muttered towards the end.

“No, we’re not on the council’s orders.”

Abby shot her husband a sharp look. She wasn’t sure she wanted to give away _everything_ just yet. “Jake.”

But Jake shook his head at her. “No, Abby. If we’re going to have a shot at getting through this, then she needs to know everything. We have to be able to trust each other. We’re asking her to keep a secret she could get floated for. I won’t disrespect that by keeping her at arm’s length.”

She didn’t know if she really believed in Jake’s judgment right now. Not after he went to Jaha. Though, that really wasn’t fair, was it? Thelonious _was_ their best friend. If Abby had been in Jake’s position, wouldn’t she have trusted him too? She knew the answer to that.

“The chancellor is using our daughter against us,” Abby ground out tightly. “The council doesn’t know about this yet. At least, not every member does,” she said, thinking of Kane. “Find a way for the Ark to survive, and Clarke doesn’t get floated. We have two years. Before the Ark’s failing life-support system can no longer recycle oxygen, and before Clarke turns eighteen.”

She ignored the shocked look Jake sent her. Probably didn’t expect her to change her mind so quickly. Abby was prepared to do much more than that to save their daughter.

Raven’s only reaction to what she heard was a furrowed brow. “Well, that’s pretty heavy. The chancellor’s a dick, but weren’t you guys friends?” She blinked at the murderous look that Abby could just _feel_ take over her face. “Okay, you _were_ friends, then. All right. I’m in. I’ll keep an eye on the reflectors, and keep Sinclair’s attention from them for now. He could probably help us with this too, but I get the feeling Chancellor Asshole probably has you two on a gag order. You don’t have to worry about me doing anything to hurt your kid. We got this. Head engineer, head doctor, and your resident genius mechanic. Let me know if I can help you patch anything up in the meantime, Griffin. I just _bet_ this place is falling apart in more ways than one. We’re gonna need all the help we can get to actually have those two years to figure this out.”

She left with a lazy wave. Abby wished she could adopt Raven’s optimism. She was determined to save Clarke if it meant it was the last thing she’d ever do, but that drive was mostly fueled by a simmering, protective rage. Hope was just a flicker of a feeling in her heart right now. They had more than they did yesterday, but Abby also knew that there was still a long way to go before she would allow herself to actually hope. That would only come with more answers, more ideas. They had work to do.

There was _one_ concession she allowed herself, though. Jake had wrapped his hand in hers once Raven was gone, squeezing hopefully. This was more than they had yesterday. And they had gotten this more by working together, by Abby ignoring the hurt she felt at the sight of him to hear him out today. Some of that hurt was soothed by the fact that they now had something to actually work with. That Jake himself had been a part of finding them the barest of threads to a solution that could save Clarke. If she had any hope today actually worth dwelling on, it was for hoping that she and Jake could really get through this, together.

Abby squeezed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Clarke in this chapter, unfortunately. Please accept my peace offering of Raven Reyes and her snark. It always really bugged me that in canon, Abby was so gung-ho about sending those kids to the ground, Clarke included, without making sure they at least had a chance to survive there. Trust me, I really see where Abby is coming from in most of the decisions she makes, but this one bothers me. It's like she was trading death by floating for death by agonizing radiation melting on the prayer that Clarke could win her life in one of the greatest gambles Abby could possibly make. The woman's a doctor. They live in space. There's a shit ton of radiation up there. There had to be SOMEBODY who would have made the connection between all that if anyone on the Ark was even remotely logical or educated in their respective fields. Which canon Abby *would* have been. So I've fixed it with Jake, Abby, and Raven. All three of them are pretty smart cookies.


	3. Three

The silence was the worst thing Clarke had to get used to.

On the Ark, crowded and small as it was, it was easy to hear people, no matter where she was. The stations were old, the metal they were fashioned from creaked as it orbited endlessly above the ground. Had she not been born up here, Clarke probably would have wondered everyday if the next groan of metal would be the last noise anyone would hear as the Ark failed. It was just something no one really thought of. The Ark had held for nearly a century, why would it quit on them now?

Of course, that was before Clarke had learned that they were living on borrowed time. Living on a dying relic from the old world, hoping they would hold out long enough to outlive the consequences of the shortsighted people before them. It was because of this knowledge, Clarke assumed, that she was now here. Held within a concrete lined cell, the walls apparently too think for Clarke to hear the ever present protests the laboring Ark made as it staggered its way through space.

She was alone.

It was jarring. If there was one thing Clarke was determined to be, it was strong enough not to show just how much this was bothering her. How much the silence pressed in on her after an entire life of living with the constant press of people. Without any other noise, or company, Clarke was left to only her own thoughts, and those thoughts were even worse than the ever present feeling of being alone.

Because she knew that not only was she doomed to spend the next two years alone in a cell for knowing something she shouldn’t, she also knew she was now completely alone in support too. The occasional guard who would come by for her meals or to escort her to the bathroom was the only physical company she had. And Clarke was absolutely determined not to try talking to him. She wouldn’t give away just how desperate she was feeling.

After all, Jaha, maybe even the council, was probably counting on her to provide a good show for her father. Clarke wouldn’t do that.

She was too stubborn for it, and would fight to preserve what dignity she could manage here in the Skybox. Clarke also had no desire to show her father, if he was even aware of what she was going through at all, how much his betrayal bothering her. At least, not in any other way than anger. Clarke was _more_ than happy to show him just how _furious_ she was with him if she ever got the chance. However, every time she thought of what she’d like to do when she got out, the striking fear would pervade her mind to remind her that there was a chance Clarke would never get out at all.

Unfortunately, Clarke was finding out just how _hard_ it was to avoid certain thoughts when she had nothing to distract herself with. Sometimes, in a few of the endless hours she seemed to be trapped here, Clarke wondered if it would even matter whether her father would get her freed. If she kept thinking about what happened, she was going to drive herself mad, and then what would be the point of getting out?

When she could manage to sleep, Clarke’s dreams were often of her far off ‘review.’ In them, she was always found guilty. It wasn’t so far off from the truth, was it? Clarke _had_ stolen the occasional pencil or pen. It was something she and Wells had both done for as long as she could remember. Clarke loved drawing, and Wells liked to make her happy. She wished that she could have been arrested for _anything_ else. Clarke wouldn’t have even minded if Jaha had simply made something up to throw her in here. Anything was better than the knowing that a man she had honestly looked up to had betrayed her childish desires. Desires he had indulged for her entire life. There were more than a few times he, or Clarke’s own parents, had caught her with a few too many markers, a little too much paper. Her parents enjoyed seeing her drawings, there were more than a few memories that were now tainted with bitterness of her father picking up one of her not-so-secret, secret pencils to join her. For his part, Jaha had always seemed to shoot her a knowing smile and a small, exasperated shake of his head.

Though, it really wasn’t the art supplies that haunted her in her dreams. Just her waking thoughts. That she had been thrown in here for such a minor crime that the chancellor himself had never seen fit to scold her for it. Until now in probably the most brutal way he possibly could, just because her father had wanted to tell people about the sad state of their home. No, what _really_ haunted her in her sleep was everything else. In her dreams, she was often before a council made up of just Jaha, Kane, and most horribly, her father. Her father was always outvoted. Clarke was always found guilty, and the next thing she knew, she would be in the airlock the Ark used to float people. Her father was always holding the button keeping the vacuum of space at bay from taking her. Before she could ask him for help, he would always only say one thing.

_We had to let you go._

And then he would push the button himself.

It didn’t matter to Clarke that her dreams always made him look just as miserable as he appeared when she was arrested. Honestly, it only made things worse. If her father had _really_ been that heartbroken, he wouldn’t push the button, would he? He wouldn’t have ripped her mother away and let them take her. _He_ wasn’t stuck in here all alone. _He_ didn’t wake up from nightmares in a cold sweat, breathing desperately and still reeling from the sensation of air getting ripped from her lungs.

He didn’t have the horrible, _empty_ experience of knowing what it felt like to be given up by one of the few people Clarke had _always_ thought she could depend on.

_This_ was the only time she allowed herself to cry. After the dreams, after getting brutally reminded again that she was here because her father apparently didn’t feel like she mattered enough to fight for.

“Prisoner 319, get up and face the wall,” the harsh voice had her flinching from the sudden break from suffocating silence.

Clarke swiftly regained control of herself, still determined to not show any weakness to the guard coming into her cell.

“No, don’t put any restraints on her.”

The voice sent a stab of emotion through Clarke’s chest.

“Doctor—”

“Sergeant Miller, I need to take a blood sample, that will be hard with her hands behind her back. Also, I’m almost _certain_ my own daughter isn’t going to attack me,” Abby’s voice was dry, but there was an undercurrent of anger there. Clarke wasn’t sure if Miller could hear it, but she could, easily.

There was a heavy sigh behind her as the guard did what was asked and stepped back. Clarke almost didn’t hear the next thing he spoke, he’d apparently had moved closer to her mother to whisper to her. “You don’t have much time. I’ll give one knock when you have to leave.”

She heard the door open and shut behind her, but Clarke didn't have a chance to turn from the wall. Her mother beat her to it, grasping her around the shoulders, turning her, then crushing Clarke in one of the strongest hugs she'd ever received.

“Clarke,” Abby said quietly, clearly relieved. She pulled back, and looked Clarke over with a critical eye.

“I'm okay, Mom,” she said before her mother could ask the question.

A gentle touch just below Clarke's eye and a concerned frown was all she needed to know that her mother didn't believe her. “You're not sleeping well?”

She shrugged, almost carelessly. “It's too quiet,” Clarke admitted. It was better than worrying Abby with her nightmares. “What are you doing here? I'm supposed to be in solitary.”

One of the nastier guards had taken great pleasure in telling Clarke that she wouldn't be seeing anyone she cared about for the next two years.

_‘At least you'll see your mom at your review. She'll get a front row seat for your float.’_

Clarke assumed his taunting was revenge for the guard she kicked.

Abby smiled conspiringly, though the expression was a little worn. “There are a _few_ perks to being a councilor. Hold out your arm, please. We don't have a lot of time.”

Doing as she was told, Clarke allowed her mother to tie a tourniquet around her upper arm, and prick a needle into the easily spotted vein on the inside of her elbow.

“What's this about?” Clarke asked, and furrowed her brow at the hesitant expression on her mother's face. “Mom, I'm in solitary confinement. I can't exactly tell anyone anything. Besides, I already know about the Ark, so I'm probably getting floated anyway.”

A harsh gleam entered Abby’s eyes, and Clarke almost thought she might jerk the syringe in her arm as she pulled it out. But her mother was as professional as ever, and Clarke didn't feel a thing as the needle was removed or when Abby pressed a swab on the lightly bleeding prick.

“You are _not_ getting floated, Clarke. Do you understand me? We're going to get you out of this,” Abby ground out as she stored Clarke’s blood sample.

“How? What do you need a blood sample for? Don't leave me in here with _nothing,_ Mom!”

It wasn’t Clarke’s intention to give away that she was going insane with just her thoughts to keep her company, but that's exactly what she did. Abby was grimacing unhappily at her outburst, probably certain now that Clarke had been lying when she had claimed she was okay.

“Thelonious will find out I’ve visited you eventually,” Abby finally said. “If he’s smart, he’ll look the other way, because god help him if he tries to take even this away from me.” Clarke was surprised by her mother’s uncharacteristically harsh tone, though perhaps she shouldn’t be. This wasn’t exactly a normal situation. “I just don’t want him to do anything to you. I don’t know what he’d do if he thought you knew anything else about the Ark.”

“Well, he can’t float me until I’m eighteen. Not even he can change that, right? It’s part of the Exodus Charter,” Clarke said. “I’m already in solitary. Mom, things can’t get much worse.”

Abby gave a harsh sigh before nodding. “I guess they can’t. I’m gathering blood samples from as many people living in Alpha Station as I possibly can. There’s been a radiation leak, but no one has been getting sick. I may have accidentally discovered that we could be more resistant to the effects of radiation than previously thought.”

Clarke’s mind worked quickly, if they were more resistant to radiation than expected, that could mean…. “We could go back to Earth early,” she said, not bothering to hide her shock.

“Hopefully. I’m trying to figure out just _how_ early.”

“But I’m not in Alpha anymore,” Clarke reminded her, probably unnecessarily. If she could feel the stark absence of her parents—even her dad—then they probably missed her too.

“You were when the leak began, and for most of it, too. But you’ve been here for the past week, the walls are a lot thicker here in the Skybox than most of the rest of the stations. Most of the samples I’ve collected so far just show me how people have been tolerating the rads they’re receiving. Since it’s at a constant rate with the leak, I haven’t been able to tell just how _fast_ our bodies can metabolize radiation now. I’m hoping your blood sample will give me that. It will only be one sample, though. In a normal study, I’d need a lot more than that to actually prove anything definitively,” her mother said, frowning at that.

She could see the problem. “We don’t have the time for that, do we? How are you going to get everything you need in two years, without letting everyone know something’s wrong? Won’t people start asking why you’re collecting so many blood samples?”

“Probably,” Abby said, huffing resignedly. “But we don’t have very many options. Your father is sure the Ark can’t be repaired. It’s either get to Earth someway, or… well, we’ll get to Earth.”

A silence fell over them. Clarke was thinking about what this could mean for everyone. No more cramped spaces, no more recycling _everything,_ no more extreme rationing. Hopefully no more floating people for the dumbest reasons.

“They let me bring a few things for you,” her mother said, breaking Clarke’s thoughts. “You’re _supposed_ to get at least a few books in solitary. I’m not happy they let you sit in here so long with nothing.” She pulled out a tablet, older than most of the ones Clarke had seen—and that was saying something—which meant it was probably disconnected from the Ark’s network. That was probably the only reason Clarke was allowed it in the first place. “And this.”

Clarke had taken the tablet, but she now hesitated at what her mother was trying to hand her now. “Mom, that’s the reason I’m here in the first place,” she said tightly.

She wanted it, though. Clarke had been _aching_ to draw something for the past several days. It would have gone a long way in helping her with the nightmares. Something to help her picture anything else, and bring it to life, rather than focusing on what she dreamt every night. But there now a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach at the small sheaf of paper her mother held out to her, with a few pieces of graphite on top. One of her favorite things to do was used against her to trap her in here.

“No it’s _not,”_ Abby told her firmly. “You’re here because of Jaha, because he’s going on a power trip, and is using you to blackmail us. This is not your fault.”

“Yeah,” she ground out. “You’re right. It’s Dad’s fault.”

The words were practically spat out, and came unintentionally. Clarke had responded almost instinctively, as if her betrayed feelings were so great, they had simply smashed their way out of her mouth. She was almost as surprised as her mother looked at hearing them.

“Clarke….”

But she wasn’t going to take them back.

“What, do you think he did the right thing?” She snapped out angrily. “I don’t want to _be here,_ Mom! I _told_ him that, and he did it anyway! He didn’t even _try!”_

Abby didn’t answer her for several moments. Clarke could actually see several different emotions flash over her face so quickly, they were hard to really parse out. Anger and guilt seemed to be there at the very least. “I don’t know what the right thing to do was, sweetheart. It _hurt_ to watch him give you up. I’ve been so angry with him. But when I think of what we could have done instead, I can’t come up with anything. Kane was going to arrest you at some point. Jaha just made sure it was done in front of us to send a message. Neither of us can go to the council with this without getting floated. And if that happens, we won’t be able to help you. I can’t let that happen.”

“So instead I’m just going to be stuck in here, waiting for the two of you to create a miracle,” she scoffed. “Why isn’t he here? Does he even care? If he really didn’t want to do it, why didn’t he come?”

“Clarke, you _know_ he cares about you. He would have been here if he could, but this visit is already pushing the envelope as it is.”

She knew that on some level. The problem was that Clarke, exhausted from little sleep, upset, and angry, was in no position to be reasoned with.

“It's his fault,” she repeated stubbornly. “If he wanted to tell everyone so badly, he should have just _done it._ Why did he go to Jaha at all?”

“Because he was our friend. Because he thought he could trust him. Clarke, we _never_ thought this would happen. Thelonious _betrayed_ us—”

There was only so much of this Clarke could take right now. “And Dad betrayed me,” she snapped back. “I don’t want to talk about Dad anymore. Was that everything?”

Her mother looked unhappy with the subject change, but Abby probably realized that Clarke just wasn't going to budge right now. She was stubborn at the best of times, and this was _far_ from the best of times.

“I'll try to come back as often as I can, but I can't be too blatant,” Abby finally said. “We're _going_ to get you out, Clarke. Just… don't let this place get to you too badly. Don't listen to anything anyone might tell you. You _aren't_ getting floated. Sergeant Miller is a good man, and my contact. If you need anything, get with him and he'll let me know.”

Clarke was already determined not to ask for anything. Miller could be a saint for all she cared, but she wasn't going to use him as a go between to practically cry to her mother. She didn't want to worry Abby any more than she probably already was. Clarke could get through this. She _would_ get through this.

Just as he said he would, Miller gave a sharp _rap_ her cell door. Abby pulled her in for one more hug, and Clarke decided to indulge herself by hugging back as tightly as she could. It was going to be a while until she saw _anyone_ she cared about again, let alone her mother.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Abby said, and gave Clarke a kiss to her cheek before pulling away. “Stay strong.”

“I love you too,” Clarke said softly.

Miller opened the door then to walk her mother out. Once it shut, Clarke was again inundated by the absolute _silence_ of her cell. In a way, her mother's visit had made it worse than it had felt before. Now she could miss being outside this place much more keenly, as she was reminded by how things could be. She could be with Abby in the clinic right now. Or—if he hadn't gotten her into this mess—with her father, watching a one hundred year old football game. Or playing chess with Wells. Clarke wondered what happened to Wells. He'd always been her partner in ‘crime.’ She hoped he was okay.

Other than the silence, Clarke’s thoughts chased after the potential discovery her mother made. She didn't know whether she wanted to allow herself to grow excited about it. The ground was something Clarke had always envied of the next couple generations of Arkers. Her generation was always meant to be a link towards getting back to Earth. She was never meant to live to see humanity’s return. That fact had always made her a little sad as a child. Clarke’s favorite subjects to draw were flowers, animals, what she imagined a forest would look like. Things she was never going to see for herself. Yet, she knew what they looked like, the Ark had books, photos, movies, things to remind them of all they left behind. Clarke had always found these memories of places, animals, and fauna more vivid, more interesting, and more _natural_ than the cold, stark walls of the Ark. She, like everyone else on the Ark, _longed_ to know what it was to live on the ground.

Before today, everyone had known that, for them, living on the ground was impossible. A far off dream for their children’s children. And now her mother was telling her that dream may be far closer than they could have ever hoped for. Clarke, despite herself, could feel herself _wanting_ that to be true. Everything she had ever known was on the Ark, and she knew that it was dying a slow, unstoppable death. If that happened, everything and everyone she had ever cared about would die with it. Despite the bitterness she felt towards her father right now, Clarke knew that he was very good at what he did. If there was nothing to fix, there was nowhere else to go… but down.

But there was nothing that Clarke could do about that. Not that she could have really helped in the first place. Clarke was not an engineer or mechanic, she couldn’t fix anything. She wasn’t a doctor, not yet, so she couldn’t determine what kind of resistance to radiation they now had, if any. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel that _anything_ would have been better than being stuck in here. Her cell, near barren and quiet, seemed drill her uselessness within her awareness. Drive home the fact that the only thing she was good for was leverage against her parents, two people who would have done anything to save the Ark _regardless_ if she had ever been taken. That was just how her parents were, there was no way they would have _not_ helped.

At least, they would have helped if her father had never threatened to tell _everyone_ about what was happening. Clarke wasn’t certain if she would have wanted to hide the truth either, but she also thought the far smarter thing would have been to just _do it._ Don’t ask anyone. Not her mother, not Jaha, no one who would torn between what was _right_ and what they felt was the ‘greater good.’

_Hindsight isn’t foresight._

She had to grit her teeth at the rebellious thought. _No,_ she wasn’t going to go there. Clarke knew her mother wanted her to forgive her father, but that wasn’t going to happen. He could have done _anything else_ besides hand her over. He didn’t even try to _argue._ What _were_ her parents doing besides trying to find a way to save the Ark? Did they even go to talk to Jaha? Clarke obviously wasn’t forgotten, which was nice to know, but she was also clearly not worth the trouble to actively defy Jaha. If the council _did_ know his real reasoning behind arresting her, would they stand for it? Clarke didn’t know. Her mother probably would have a far better idea of that than she would.

Clarke couldn’t help but feel that if their situations were different, if her father had been arrested instead, she would have done _anything_ to help him. She would have stood up for what he wanted to do, even if it would have gotten her arrested too. That would have been the _right_ thing to do. She wouldn’t have just let something so _wrong_ happen to her father without making a stand with him.

_Minors don’t get floated, though._

Her groan of frustration shattered the ever present silence, and very nearly had her jumping. Clarke didn’t want to think about this. It was _all_ she had been thinking about since coming here. It seemed that she wasn’t going to be escaping her circling thoughts through sheer will. With a grimace, she snuck a look at the things her mother had left for her. The tablet could wait, Clarke was in no state to concentrate on reading. But the real interest she had, even if she wish it weren’t there, was for the drawing supplies Abby had left her. That was the only release she was going to get from her thoughts. The one thing that had made it possible for Clarke to be used against her parents was in this cell with her. Her mother could say that this wasn’t her fault, and it mostly wasn’t, but Clarke couldn’t pretend that she had given Jaha the opportunity to lock her in the Skybox. She had for _years._ He could have done this to her at any time he wanted to.

And that made her wonder. Had he always ignored her sneaking so he could have this card in his pocket? For use at the greatest opportunity? Had he ever been her friend? Her father’s friend? Where did Jaha end and the Chancellor begin? Was there a difference between the two? Clarke didn’t know the answer to any of these questions, and would probably never get them unless she spoke to Jaha herself. That is if he would even give her the answers she wanted. All she was really certain of was that the man was clearly comfortable enough to stab them all in the back if it meant doing what he thought was best for the Ark.

Clarke didn’t think she’d _ever_ be capable of something like that.

He’d pretty much taken her life from her. Clarke would be stuck here for _two years_ unless her parents could find a way to fix this impossible problem sooner than that. Which Clarke doubted. She was going to spend two years in this place, talking to her mother only very rarely, never seeing Wells, never going to the clinic, or enjoying what little freedom everyone on the Ark could claim. Instead of causing her despair, however, it made Clarke _angry._ If she could see the man himself right now, Clarke wasn’t certain of what she would do. She did know that she wanted to _prove_ to Jaha that this wasn’t going to break her. She didn’t know if he really cared about how she was doing in here, but Clarke would make _sure_ that she would make it out of this to look him in the eye and make him answer for this.

Angrily, she snatched the paper. He wasn’t going to take _this_ from her. She’d put it all over the damn walls if she had to. Clarke didn’t care what any guard would say, if she was even allowed to do this, but she was going to. All at once, Clarke changed her mind about asking Miller for something. Well, _one_ thing at least. She was going to need a _whole lot_ of graphite to do what she wanted. This cell belonged to the Ark. Cold, blank, and _boring._

When Clarke was finished with it, it was going to be _hers._ She’d put the whole world all over it. A world that wasn’t _this._ A world that didn’t cling on to its every laboring breath just to see another day of barely surviving. Clarke wanted more than that. She allowed herself to believe that her mother was going to get her out of this. That she _wasn’t_ going to be floated.

Clarke didn’t want to _survive._ She wanted to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here's an entire chapter of Clarke! :D Poor, angst-ing, sad, *angry* Clarke. Solitary has to be its own brand of hell, and I'm pretty surprised the show never touched on Clarke's feelings over it. She's told Abby about how mad she was at getting sent to the ground as an experiment, but never mentions what she thought of being in solitary. It's weird. Also, I think being stuck there, not able to actually speak with Jake face to face, and allowing all this resentment to fester would not at all help her forgive him. Talking about someone is a lot different than talking directly to them.
> 
> Poor, innocent Clarke. She has no idea how the ground is going to shape her.


	4. Four

“You always this quiet, Griffin?” Raven’s voice rang out unexpectedly.

Jake couldn't keep himself from jumping at the interruption. They'd been working in near silence for over an hour. His thoughts kept him from being as polite as he probably should be.

“No,” he answered honestly. “I've got a lot on my mind.”

Well,  _ one  _ thing on his mind, more like. One person. Abby’s first ‘secret’ visit with Clarke had apparently gone as well as expected. She'd gotten Clarke’s blood sample, given her the few things she was allowed in solitary, and reassured their daughter that she wasn't going to be forgotten.

Those were the highlights Abby had given him right off the bat. However, he was very good at reading Abby. She had been hiding something from him. It took a few tries, but Jake had coaxed it out of her. And what she had been trying to protect him from didn't really surprise him. Though it did hurt all the same.

Clarke blamed him for her arrest.

To be honest, Jake blamed himself too. He didn’t begrudge her blame, he should have been more careful. He should have never tried to go around Thelonious. Jake should have  _ known  _ that as the chancellor, he would take drastic action if he thought he needed to. Jake had incorrectly assumed that any action Jaha would take would have been against  _ him,  _ and him alone.

He was very,  _ very  _ wrong.

And now he had no opportunity to even talk to Clarke, to apologize for getting her into this mess. It was too risky. He and Abby couldn’t exactly waltz into the Skybox and do whatever they wanted. There was a basic level of rules even they had to follow, regardless of whatever connections Abby could get them as a councilor. Abby could at least pretend that her visits with Clarke were for medical purposes. Jake had no opportunity to try and fix the rift between Clarke and himself. He knew Abby would do what she could, but Clarke wasn’t going to believe anything she told her unless she heard it from Jake himself. And he feared that the longer he and Clarke spent apart would just give her more opportunity to cement the anger and hurt she held towards him.

“Well, yeah. Guess that’s to be expected. You know, since we’re pretty much saving the world. This place might as well be the world for us, anyway,” Raven said. “But I’m guessing that look on your face isn’t about that. We’re doing pretty good right now. I’m helping you build a remote drone to get some readings on the ground. That’s pretty damn awesome.”

Jake wondered if he should be annoyed that Raven was this intuitive. She was only about two years older than Clarke. She shouldn’t be able to read him this well, but here they were.

“It’s nothing. Just personal issues,” he decided to deflect.

Raven shot him a grimace. “Look, Griffin, I don’t have a kid, but I do kinda get where you’re coming from. I have someone I care about in the Skybox too.”

He looked up at her. “I’m sorry.”

There wasn’t much else he could say, was there? Jake didn’t have a lot of people he personally knew get arrested, but everyone on the Ark knew just how brutal the punishments for breaking the law,  _ any  _ law, could be. There was no point in offering fake sympathy. It would only hurt all the more if the prisoner ended up getting floated in the end. Which most of them did. Jake didn’t know the circumstances Raven’s friend or family member was in, he wouldn’t presume to give her a meaningless reassurance.

“Can I tell you something? Something you’re  _ probably  _ not going to like? I mean it, you can’t tell anyone about this. I’ll get floated,” Raven told him seriously. It was an entirely different side to her from her typical sarcasm.

“We’re already in this together, aren’t we? If the council knew even  _ half  _ the laws we were breaking right now, we’d all get floated,” Jake reminded her.

Raven snorted. “Yeah. Those idiots have no idea what kind of shit we’re doing for them. But back to the thing I’m  _ pretty sure  _ you’re gonna hate. I’m not exactly in this because I’m the selfless type. I fucked up, and probably made this oxygen shortage we’re going through worse than it already was.”

She seemed bitter about what she was about to tell him, and Jake could spot a bit of guilt in her eyes. He waited patiently for her to continue.

“I have a heart defect, did you know that? It’s just the  _ slightest  _ bit off. Nothing I would probably notice my entire life. But the Ark didn’t want to take a risk on it. Why should they, when they could get somebody else without a heart problem?”

He shook his head. “No. But I did know Sinclair overrode your initial physical. He was really impressed by your test scores. Looks like it convinced at least one person on the Ark that you were more than that little heart problem.”

“Dammit, Griffin,” Raven huffed. “Don’t give me pep talk right now. It’s just going to make this harder.  _ Trust me,  _ I don’t exactly deserve it. I have a boyfriend,” she continued before Jake could say anything. “His name is Finn, and we’ve looked out for each other for as long as I remember. We’re the only family each other’s got. Nobody else who  _ should  _ have given a damn about me does. He knew how disappointed I was to get that rejection. Hell, I’ll be honest. Being a spacewalker was the  _ only  _ thing I’d ever wanted to do my entire life. I’m a pretty kick ass mechanic, but  _ spacewalking.  _ It’s amazing, and I wanted it more than anything. To make things worse, that rejection came on my eighteenth birthday. Kick a girl while she’s down, right?

“Well, Finn hated to see me so down. He set up a surprise for me. Got an old space suit patched up and ready to go. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Jake had to resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. By the look of things, Raven  _ did  _ understand just how badly she messed up. “That illegal spacewalk was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” Raven replied, popping the ‘p.’ “It was amazing. Better than I would have ever imagined. I thought it was going to be the only time I was ever going to experience it. And everything went  _ perfectly  _ until the very end. I was coming back in, going through the decompression cycle in the airlock when things went to shit. Air was getting sucked out from the Ark, and Finn was just able to get the manual override flipped to save me and seal the airlock behind me. But, it was too late. We were caught. I’d just turned eighteen, remember? Finn was still seventeen though.” She sighed. “He took the fall for me.”

“You’re helping for him,” Jake surmised. “If we can save the Ark before he turns eighteen, he might not need to get floated if it came to that.  _ No one  _ would need to be floated.”

Raven nodded. “Yeah, that’s the pipe dream, at least. I’ve got an even shorter time limit than you do. But that’s not the point. I told you all that because I  _ know  _ what you’re thinking about. You’re blaming yourself for Clarke, right? I know I’m blaming myself for Finn. I should have never gone along with that dumb as hell plan. It was all for nothing in the end, that’s the worst part. Sinclair told me  _ the very next day  _ that he overrode my physical. Shittiest birthday ever.”

“Clarke was arrested because I threatened to go public with what I knew,” Jake said after a long moment.

“That’s pretty crappy. Couldn’t arrest you without floating you, so go after your kid. Jaha’s a  _ huge  _ dick,” Raven shook her head.

“She’s mad at me too.”

He wasn’t sure why he was being so forthright with Raven. Maybe he just wanted a different perspective. Abby wasn’t exactly impartial about this, not that Jake ever expected her to be. She was just as miserable about this as he was. Raven was the  _ only  _ other person who knew about the real reason Clarke was in the Skybox. Jake didn’t have a ton of options on who he could go to for advice. He tried to ignore the fact that Raven was at least half his age.

“Why? It’s not like  _ you  _ handed her over, right?”

The stony silence that filled the room was all the answer she needed.

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

Raven was grimacing. “Sorry. I don’t know the whole story. You probably had a good reason for it.”

“It was the only way to ensure Clarke would get a pardon. If I fought back, if Abby fought back, we would have gotten floated. And then Clarke would have gotten floated when she turned eighteen. The only way she’s getting pardoned is if we save the Ark. Without us, she’s… well,” Jake rubbed his face in frustration.

“And Jaha actually  _ told  _ you that?” Raven scoffed at Jake’s nod. “That guy’s an  _ ass.  _ Griffin, that’s a pretty good reason to do what you did. If that was the only way to save her, then you did what you had to. Clarke’s in a pretty shitty position right now. Maybe she’s just blaming you because it’s helping her get through this.”

Maybe. Or maybe she was furious with Jake because he had literally ripped Abby way from her and let the guards drag her away. That shock lash probably didn’t help things either. Jake could remember  _ very  _ clearly how Clarke had asked him not to do it. But he did it anyway, because he couldn’t see any other way, and  _ Clarke  _ was the only one suffering for it. He decided not to tell Raven about this. Not for himself. Jake just didn’t want to give off the impression that he was blaming Clarke for feeling the way that she was. Her feelings were justified. Even  _ if  _ this was the best thing for her, that didn’t erase the fact that Jake had turned on her. He was her father, and he’d done nothing to stop the guard from taking her. That had to be a terrible thing to go through.

He couldn’t justify himself to Raven. There was no justifying his failures.

The door to his small workroom opened suddenly. Raven scrambled to throw a sheet the  _ very  _ illegal drone they were building. None of the parts they were building it from were what one would consider numerous on the Ark.

“Oh, it’s just you, Abby,” Raven huffed. “We seriously need some kind of code or something. I thought you were going to be the guard.”

“Sorry,” Abby said, though the apology was reactionary. She was distracted by something. “I got the results of Clarke’s blood test. It’s  _ exactly  _ what I was hoping for.”

“About time!” Raven said what they were all thinking. Abby had gotten that blood sample a few days ago. She had been unable to analyze it because Jackson had gotten a little too nosy about what they were doing. Abby had to do a lot deflecting for the past couple of days.

“What’s the verdict?” Jake asked.

“She’s completely clean. It  _ is  _ only one test sample, but if this means what I think it does, we’ve got an  _ actual shot  _ of making it to the ground,” Abby grinned for the first time in over a week. “So long as we don’t receive a deadly dose of radiation, enough to overwhelm our immune system, our blood is capable of actually filtering rads out of our bodies. The problem now is that I don’t really know what a deadly radiation dose for us  _ is.” _

“And this is assuming Clarke doesn’t have some kind of mutation, right?” Raven asked.

“Yes. It is  _ possible  _ that Clarke’s results are skewed in some way. She’s only one data point. That would be a risk for any single test I could run. She can’t be considered the norm because we don’t know what that actually is,” Abby conceded. “It’s unlikely that her results are because of a unique genetic mutation, but we can’t make an assumption just off her sample. I’d need a real sample size to determine that. Preferably from different stations and across several age groups.”

“And we can’t expose the entire Ark to a radiation leak in the hope that we could be right,” Jake sighed.

They were silent for a moment. Jake didn’t know what the other two were thinking, but he was realizing far more starkly than he ever had before just how  _ hard  _ this was going to be. He knew that this wasn’t going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination. But it was an entirely different thing to realize just how  _ massive  _ in scope their work was going to have to get to prove that the ground was livable. They had to prove that  _ everyone  _ on the Ark was as resistant to radiation as he, Clarke, and the spacewalkers apparently were.  _ Without  _ hurting them. They had to find out what the radiation levels on the ground currently were, and then find out if those levels were harmful to their, as of yet unproven, resistance. And then after  _ that,  _ they needed to find a way to actually  _ get  _ everyone to the ground.

And there were only  _ three of them  _ to figure it all out.

Damn Jaha and his secrecy.

“One thing at a time, right?” Raven broke the silence. “We should get this finished before Kane or somebody waltzes in.”

The drone wasn’t exactly revolutionary. The Ark actually had schematics for them, planned to be built in probably another fifty years or so. Closer to the time they were scheduled to go back to the ground. Since the Ark wasn’t at all ready—or even thought they needed to be ready—to look towards the Earth right now, they were buried in the Ark’s servers for Jake to find. It saved him a bit of time from having to design them himself. The drones were designed to be launched from the Ark, land—or crash really—and remotely transmit readings back to the Ark. Jake had no idea if they would actually work. They’d never been built or tested before. He was taking a leap of faith on them. Just like practically everything else they were doing. At least it had a  _ chance  _ of working though.

“You let me worry about Kane,” Abby said darkly. “I’ll make sure he won’t bother us.”

Jake raised an eyebrow at her. “And how do you plan on doing that? Kane’s not really known for looking the other way.”

“I’m not going to ask him to. Let’s just say that I know how to play dirty too. Jake, don’t breath a  _ word  _ about what we’re doing to anyone else without coming to me first. Promise me that. I know you want to tell everyone, but we can’t afford to do that now. Clarke could depend on us keeping this as quiet as we possibly can,” Abby told him seriously.

“What are you planning, Abby? I thought we agreed on no more secrets,” Jake reminded her irritably. This was something they just couldn’t see eye to eye on.

“It’s not a secret. It’s something I’ve only just worked out. We need some leverage, Jake. We can’t let Jaha hold all the cards. He  _ needs  _ us. He can’t save the Ark himself.  _ We  _ are critical to that. The Ark isn’t going to make it without us.” Abby stared at him, her eyes narrowed.

Jake gaped at her. “You want us to  _ blackmail  _ him back?! We’re talking about the entire  _ Ark!” _

How did it get to this?

_ “Clarke  _ is on the Ark too. It’s too late to tell everyone, Jake. That option is beyond us now. If we do that, we’ll lose her. That  _ can’t  _ happen.”

“We don’t have to choose one or the other!” Jake shouted. “I’m trying to save everyone!”

“Hey!” Raven snapped out. She gave them each an irritable look, soldering iron poised above a circuit board. “Both of you relax! I’m  _ not  _ going to be your marriage counselor. Griffin…. I think I’m with Abby on this one. Hold on,” she said at the sharp look on this face, “don’t think of this as choosing one or the other. I don’t think the Doc is actually saying that. First off, she actually  _ can’t  _ save one without saving the other, so….”

Abby took a deep breath and turned back to him. “Jake, she’s right. I’m not asking you to choose between the Ark and our daughter. I’m asking you to help me save them  _ both.  _ We can’t trust Thelonious. Not anymore. We can’t count on him to pardon Clarke when all this is said and done. I  _ won’t  _ count on him to do that. The only thing standing between Clarke and an airlock is us. If we make ourselves invaluable, if we  _ make sure  _ that Clarke absolutely has to be pardoned before the Ark can make it to the ground, then we will get her back. We already have the answers, I know we do. The only thing keeping us from the ground now is  _ proving  _ to everyone else that we can survive there. Once we’re able to do that, we make it a condition to free Clarke before we tell  _ anyone  _ how we’re going to save the Ark.”

The room grew quiet as Jake thought everything over. He knew they had a point. Really, he knew that this was probably the only thing they could do to make sure that Clarke had a chance. He didn’t want to trust Jaha either. Jake was opposed to the idea mostly because it was just  _ so far  _ from what he had hoped they could do from the very beginning. He had hoped that they could all come together. That the Ark could prove they could work together, just as they had to join the stations in the first place, to find a way to survive a second time. But now Abby and Raven were suggesting that they do the exact opposite. That they keep this terrible secret between just themselves and trust that they knew how to best move forward.

What if they were wrong?

He wasn’t naive. Jake was a perpetual optimist, but he did realize the risks in telling everyone. He hadn’t simply been ignoring Jaha’s concerns as non-existent. Instead, he had viewed them as the lesser of two evils. Jake had been  _ stuck.  _ He was not going to find a solution by himself, he had needed help. And it was utterly impossible to find out just  _ who  _ could help him unless as many people knew about the Ark failing as possible.

But that hadn’t happened. Jaha had moved before he could. Made sure that Jake couldn’t go forward with his own plans without risking Clarke, which he absolutely wasn’t willing to do, period. Instead, it seemed luck was guiding him. He hadn’t counted on Raven knocking on his door with a solution in her hands just waiting to be discovered. Hadn’t counted on Abby finding a biological connection with the data they had. Jake had always figured they would have found some way to mechanically stretch the Ark’s capabilities in  _ some  _ way. He had never thought that going back to  _ Earth  _ would be the answer.

Yet here they were.

He had the unexpected help he wanted. Perhaps that was going to be the best he could hope for.

“This isn't what I wanted,” Jake finally said. “I didn't want any of this.”

Abby’s face softened. “I know. I wish everything was different too. But we need to do what we have to now.”

“Alright,” he finally agreed gloomily. “Do it. Just… if we ever get an opportunity, if Clarke is ever safe enough,  _ please _ think about telling everyone. It's what I should have done in the first place.”

“Okay,” Abby took his hand. It was the first contact she'd made with him on her own. “Raven, can I talk to Jake for a moment?”

“Will that get your heads back into this?” Raven grumped, already putting on her jacket. “I'll be back in ten.”

They were quiet for several beats after the door closed behind her. Jake wasn't sure what Abby wanted with him. They'd been open with Raven from the start. If this couldn't be said in front of her, then that meant this was about Clarke, or their relationship.

Or both.

“She's something else,” Abby chuckled.

“Reminds me of another kid we know. Is this about Clarke?”

“Let me say something for you.” Abby looked almost pained. “Jake, she’s  _ so  _ angry with you. I don't know what to tell her.”

They hadn't gotten a chance to talk much about what Clarke had said in her cell. There was so much to do, and Jake couldn't deny that he'd been putting this off.

“Don’t tell her anything.”

“I can't do that. I know I've been upset with you, but I can't let your relationship with Clarke suffer when it doesn't have to.”

“There's nothing  _ you  _ can do, Abby,” he said tiredly. “Clarke doesn’t want to hear you defend me. Anything I can say to her, any apology I can give, she'll want to hear from me directly. And that won't happen for a while.”

Her jaw tightened, and Jake knew that she wasn't going to let this go. “Is this your penance, Jake? Your way of punishing yourself over what happened? You want to just let Clarke resent you, risk that she actually grows to  _ hate  _ you if it comes to that, because you feel  _ guilty?  _ That's selfish. This is not just about you.”

Jake felt his own anger surge to the forefront. Did she actually think he  _ wanted  _ his own daughter to hate him? “Exactly. This is about Clarke, and doing whatever we can to make this easier on her.”

“Right, and thinking her own father doesn't care about her will make this  _ easier  _ on her,” Abby scoffed. “Clarke has always been closest with you. She's always gone to you first with her problems. This is killing her as much as it is you. Let me help you.”

“She needs  _ someone  _ in her corner, Abby. She's in solitary confinement. She's not going to see or talk to anyone besides you  _ maybe  _ once a month, or a guard who’s not going to give a damn about her. Clarke has always been stubborn, she believes I betrayed her, and, like you said, we've always been close. Think about that. I know how much she looks up to me. How do you think she felt as I  _ let  _ her get arrested? I think about it all the time, Abby. I let her down. She trusted me to always be there for her, and look where that got her. She's not going to forgive me very easily if at all.

“You’re the  _ only  _ one she has right now,” he continued before she could argue. “Don’t let yourself get so caught up defending me that you accidentally push her away. If Clarke thinks you agree with me, whether you actually do or not, she won't want anything to do with either of us. She won't let Miller know if she needs anything. She won't be honest with you when you ask about how she's doing. She'll be stuck in the Skybox  _ alone  _ thinking that we didn't care enough about her to stop Kane. I can barely stand thinking about how solitary has to be affecting her. Don't let her go through this alone, Abby.”

He was pleading by this point, but didn't care. She  _ had  _ to understand this. Clarke wasn’t petty, she wouldn't ignore them out of spite. Instead she'd view this as them breaking her trust. Her own  _ parents  _ would be shattering any trust she had in them if Abby wasn’t careful. Jake didn’t want to imagine the kind of walls his normally open, light hearted daughter would build if she thought she was essentially abandoned by everyone she cared about.

“I won’t let her think you don't care. That's not going to happen,” Abby told him stubbornly. Clarke got her hard-headed personality  _ somewhere,  _ after all. “She loves you, Jake.  _ That's  _ why she's angry with you. Clarke is only sixteen. Nothing about her situation is reasonable. She's not going to handle this gracefully. Letting her think whatever she wants about you is only going to hurt her. She doesn't understand why you did it, so she's going to think the worst. And with nothing to truly distract her from her thoughts, she’s won’t be able to separate her feelings from what actually happened. What you  _ had  _ to do. She’s not sleeping well. This is probably haunting her. We  _ can’t  _ let her think you don’t care, because that will hurt her worse than anything else will. If we do things your way, we might just save Clarke, but she won’t be the same person she was before she went in the Skybox. She might not be that person now, but we  _ have  _ to do our best to mitigate that as much as we can.”

Jake turned from her, frustrated and upset. Not at Abby, but at himself, at Jaha, at the Ark and its damned state, and what was happening to Clarke. She was only trying to help, he knew that, and Jake also knew that Abby had a point. More than that, she would be far more right in the long term than he would be.

“You have to convince her on her terms, then,” he said, still not facing her. “Don’t push her, Abby. You have to patient. If she doesn’t want to talk about me, don’t make her.”

“Hey,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll help you fix this as best I can. We’re all going to get through this.”

“I know, that’s not what I’m really worried about.” Jake looked at her, and tried to shoot her a wry grin. It probably resembled something closer to a grimace, though.

Abby rolled her eyes. “I know how to talk to Clarke, Jake.”

“Mm. You’re both pretty good at riling each other up,” he pointed out. “Too much alike for your own good.”

She pushed at his shoulder with the hand she had rested on it, scoffing irritably. Jake could spot the smile she didn’t want to give him. She hated losing. “Better watch what you say, Jake Griffin.  _ You’re  _ the one riling me up right now. I’ll let the apprentices take over your next medical check-up if you aren’t careful. You know how terrible they are at venipunctures.”

He laughed and shuddered in the same movement, already feeling their nervous and too eager jabs at his forearm. “I’m glad she takes after you,” he said, becoming sober again.

“I thought we were too much alike,” she reminded him as she stepped closer to him.

“Oh, you are. But that only means she’s too hard-headed to let this get the best of her. The angrier you both get, the harder you fight.”

Jake pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. He wasn’t sure she was ready to accept more from him yet. Abby pressed into his chest roughly, and Jake knew that if he could see her face right now, it would be close to tears.

“I hope you’re right,” she said roughly. “She’s so miserable in there. She didn’t say it, but I could tell.”

They stood like that for a while. Abby was probably as lost in her thoughts as Jake was. This  _ had  _ to work. More than anything, Jake wanted to fix things with Clarke. He wanted to reassure her that he loved her, that he had done what he had to protect her. The  _ last  _ thing he wanted was for Clarke to be floated. And what would make things even worse would be if she got floated still believing that he had turned his back on her. He had never wanted to hurt her.

“Hey,” Raven’s voice suddenly sprang from the door, startling their moment badly enough to cause Abby to jerk away from him in surprise. Jake immediately missed the contact. “I figured if we’re gonna go rogue like this, we might as well do it in style.”

To her credit, Raven seemed to be completely ignoring Abby’s slightly tear-streaked face, instead grinning as she placed two suspicious looking, large thermoses on the table.

“What is that?” Jake asked her, narrowing his eyes.

“Something that will  _ hopefully  _ make this shit a hell of a lot less stressful,” she smirked.

Abby picked up a thermos and took a slight sniff at the contents before she screwed her face up. “Raven… is this  _ moonshine?!” _

_ Oh geez. _

Their answer came in the form of the biggest, most mischievous grin Jake had ever seen.

“How did you even  _ get  _ this?” Abby asked.

Raven took the thermos from her and took a healthy drag, shaking her head sharply at the taste. “Knew a couple of guys. Nerdiest kids I’ve ever met, but they make some pretty strong hooch. Are you gonna give me the third degree, Doc, or are you gonna live a little?”

Jake was shaking his head at her antics. “Raven, this isn’t going to get the drone built any faster. In fact, it’s probably going to make sure we can’t—”

He came to a bemused stop as Abby snatched back the thermos and threw her head back for her own long pull of alcohol.

“Abby!” Jake exclaimed. Was he the only taking this seriously now? Hadn’t Raven left them so  _ they  _ could get their ‘heads back into this?’ And now this….

“Jake,” his wife said after a strong grimace at the taste. “I’ve probably gotten four hours of sleep at time,  _ if that,  _ since all this happened. Have you done any better?”

He hadn’t.

Raven pressed the second thermos into his hand. “See? Stressful shit. We wouldn’t be able to get any work done for much longer anyway. Might as well try to relax, Griffin. Can’t save the Ark if we kill each other first.”

“Can’t save it if we get alcohol poisoning, either,” he muttered, but took a swallow anyway. It burned as it went down his throat and tasted terrible. But hopefully it  _ would  _ help them slow down from their frantic and desperate pace to get what they needed. Working like that for too long would probably have them making mistakes, he could concede that point.

“What good is marrying a doctor if she can’t help you with the occasional case of alcohol poisoning?” Raven teased as she took the moonshine back from him for another swallow.

Raven Reyes was indeed something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving the plot along slowly yet surely, and some more Griffin Marital Therapy. I refuse to believe that the Ark would have just picked the 200 years number from a hat and not made sure they could verify anything before trying to return to the ground, hence the drones. Raven Reyes is Raven Reyes. A time skip is probably going to happen next chapter. Clarke will get a more active role in this story in maybe the next... three... chapters if my mental outline holds up.


	5. Five

Clarke was putting the finishing touches on a deer when she heard voices outside her cell. It had been a… _boring_ few weeks since her mother had visited her. Clarke didn’t know how long she had been locked up in total. She had been able to set up a rudimentary day count set to her meals and counted by tally marks on the wall with her graphite. However, she hadn’t had that graphite before Abby had visited. Her mother has said it had been around a week before she had come to visit. So, had it been a month? Clarke wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know. On the one hand, the thought that she had been here for an entire _month_ was maddening. On the other, at least she was getting through this. If she would have been asked before this whether or not she would have ever made it a month in solitary confinement, Clarke probably would have shuddered.

She was curious when the cell door opened this time with no guard barking orders at her. Miller was standing at the mouth of her cell, but he didn’t seem nearly as strict or cold as he had the first time Clarke had seen him. Instead, he gave her a small nod before gesturing her mother through.

Abby wasted no time entering and hugging Clarke again. She returned the embrace, actually grateful to see someone she knew. It hadn’t gotten any easier, the loneliness. There were still a few guards who were content to taunt her. Clarke had tried to take her mother’s advice in stride, but it was difficult to keep positive when she went through the same mind numbing routine day after day. That piece of graphite, now a nub, had been far more helpful than Clarke ever would have guessed.

“How are you?” Abby asked, worrying her lip. Clarke gathered that this was probably going to be the first question her mother would ask her at each visit she made.

“Okay,” Clarke told her with a wan smile. “I’m sleeping better.” She shrugged.

The dream still bothered her. However, it wasn’t coming _every_ night anymore. Just most. Better was a bit of a relative metric.

“How did my blood test come out?” She asked before Abby could continue her fussing. Nothing had really changed with Clarke. She was still stuck in here, doing the same things over and over again.

“Completely clean,” Abby answered as her gaze flickered to the cell wall behind Clarke. She smiled a little at the deer Clarke had drawn. Clarke wasn’t surprised that Abby liked it. With nothing to do, she had put as much detail in it as she could possibly remember. Her parents had always liked her work, and that probably went a long way into ensuring her mother that Clarke wasn’t going completely crazy in here more than anything she could have told her.

“So what does that mean? That the ground is livable again?” Clarke asked, drawing her mother’s attention back to her.

But Abby only shook her head. “Not quite. You’re only one metric. I can’t make any conclusions with your test. It’s really only something that would support further testing. I’ve been monitoring the spacewalkers. They’ve always had the most opportunity to get radiation poisoning, being outside the station with relatively little protection compared to everyone inside, but none of them have ever gotten sick. I have a contact with them who has agreed, against my better judgement, to be a _little_ less careful in avoiding radiation exposure. Her blood has been filtering out the extra rads as easily as yours has.”

Her mother was frowning disapprovingly, and it had Clarke wondering just who this contact was and what they had done to get Abby to make that face. The same face she had always leveled at Clarke when she had done something particularly worrying and exasperating in her mother’s point of view.

“And has _that_ gotten you any closer to finding out if we can go back to the ground?” Clarke asked in lieu of her question about the contact. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know about any new friends her parents were apparently making. It only highlighted the fact that she was by herself.

“A little. The problem with is that the spacewalkers might just be particularly resistant to radiation as a group in and of themselves. That’s unlikely, but what I really need is data on people across the entire Ark. I really think the Earth is survivable for us, I just need to convince the council now, and they’re going to require a _lot_ more proof than what I currently have.”

Clarke didn’t bother hiding her eye rolling. “Yeah, and if _Jaha’s_ the final vote, I think we’re all going to be doomed.”

“Well, I’m not going to let it come to that. The council’s going to know about our plan when it’s fool-proof. We’re getting to the ground, Clarke,” Abby said determinedly.

It was clear that her mother believed that wholeheartedly. It was a _little_ encouraging. Clarke was glad that at least one of them could be confident about the future.

“So what now? Is this just a personal visit?”

Abby sighed, and she looked slightly guilty. “No. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I have to be careful about this. If I can convince Jaha or Kane, _when_ they ask me about this, that this is for either the Ark or medical visits, then I’ll likely be allowed to continue. As it is, I’m going to try to have multiple reasons to visit you if I can.”

She could understand that, it certainly made sense. The last thing Clarke wanted was her mother get in trouble just because she visited her. It would be selfish of her to demand Abby keep this up just to keep her company. By all accounts, her mother was central to this plan to save the Ark. Clarke wasn’t going to ask her to risk herself if it meant that the Ark wouldn’t get to the ground. Clarke also didn’t want her mother taking these risks if it would get her floated, period.

“Mom, are you really going to get in a lot of trouble if you get caught?” Clarke asked, not bothering to hide her concern. “I don’t want you to get floated.”

“It’s fine,” Abby brushed off. “I can handle Kane and Jaha. I have a plan, Clarke. I’m not going to do anything that would put any of us in more danger than we’re already in. I’m here to give your more supplies,” she brought out more graphite, and smiled at Clarke. “As well as get another blood sample. I want to see if I can’t introduce radiation to it directly and watch what your blood cells do. What _our_ blood cells do. I need more people tested to make this a viable plan, so you won’t be the only person getting a blood test done across the Ark.”

“Can’t you just get Jaha to approve to station-wide tests?” Clarke asked. “Everybody will probably still ask questions, but they wouldn’t bother you about it as much if they thought this was something the council wanted.”

“Because I’m keeping Jaha out of this as much as I can,” Abby said with a tightened jaw. “Don’t tell me you trust him to do what’s right, because I certainly don’t.”

She didn’t. Clarke didn’t want to trust Jaha with absolutely anything. But, she did wonder how her parents were supposed to get this done without him. “I don’t, Mom, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m just confused about how you can do all this stuff without him knowing about it and letting you do it. How is he not going to ask questions? Are you really going to ignore him? And if you do, won’t he just not give me my pardon?”

“If he doesn’t give you your pardon, he’s going to die on this damned station,” Abby said with a murderous look on her face.

Clarke gaped at her. This was about as far from the Abby Griffin she knew as possible. Her mother was a _doctor._ She didn’t believe in hurting people if she could even _possibly_ avoid it. And now her mother was practically telling her that she was willing to let every single person on the Ark die if it meant Clarke met a fate that was anything other than freedom.

“Mom…. I….” She didn’t know what to even _say_ to that.

Abby took a deep breath, apparently forcing herself to calm down. “Clarke, I’m not prepared to lose you. I _won’t_ lose you. But I’m not going to lose the Ark either. I don’t want it to be this way, but Jaha hasn’t left us with many choices. I honestly doubt he’s going to let you go even _if_ we’d been keeping updated about the situation every step of the way, did everything he wanted, and saved the Ark. I doubt everything he’s ever said to us, everything he’s ever done. I don’t _know_ the man any longer. My _friend_ wouldn’t have done this to you. You were innocent in all this. He wants the Ark saved. I want my daughter back. There’s a very easy way to get us what we both want. I promise it’s not going to come to a choice between you and the Ark, I’m doing everything that I can to save everyone.”

How was she supposed to feel about this? A few weeks ago, Clarke had been bitterly wondering if she had been left in here to mire alone while her parents did everything Jaha wanted to guarantee her freedom. She had wondered if they had just accepted this, just allowed her to be locked in here to be punished for something that wasn’t really her fault because it was _easier_ than standing up for her. And now she was hearing directly from her mother herself that she was willing to condemn every last person on this station, the last of their entire _people,_ if that meant keeping Clarke safe. If that wasn’t defying Jaha, Clarke wasn’t sure what was. She wondered if she really wanted to be the lynch pin in the Ark’s fate.

But she also wondered if her mother was the _only_ person who felt this way.

“What about Dad?” Clarke asked, biting her lip.

Her mother studied her for a moment, as if parsing out the real reason Clarke was asking this question. “He wants to save everyone. He still wants to tell the Ark about the oxygen problem, he believes everyone deserves to know. I don’t know if that’s really the best decision, but I know that your father would rather that we wouldn’t be in this situation at all. This has been hard for him to accept.”

“It’s been hard for me, too,” Clarke couldn’t keep herself from grounding out. This has been _hard_ for him? Really?

“Clarke,” Abby admonished sharply. “Listen to me. I’m _not_ saying that you aren’t in the worst position out of all of us. I’m telling you that if he had his way, you wouldn’t be here at all, the Ark would have known about the oxygen crisis, and we would all be working together to solve the problem. I have no idea if things would have happened that way, it honestly sounds like the very _best_ we could ever hope for. I don’t want you to think that your dad isn’t doing everything he can to help you. He _wants_ you just as safe as I do. This plan didn’t occur to him, though. I don’t think your father is really capable of thinking this way. He believes the best in people, and I think you _know_ that.”

“What are you trying to say?” Clarke demanded. “If you’re trying to tell me that he wants to let Jaha decide what happens to me, that’s fine. I already _know_ that, and—”

 _“No,”_ Abby snapped. “I’m not saying that at all, Clarke. _Listen_ to me. Your father _honestly_ believes that we all would have come together in the absolute worst crisis the Ark has ever seen, second only to the bombs falling. Yet, he’s actually going with our plan to _blackmail_ the entire Ark for your safety. Does that sound like a man who _doesn’t_ care about you? Do you _truly_ believe that, knowing that about him? Don’t lie to yourself, Clarke. That’s never going to help you through this. It’s only going to make it all harder on you. Is it _honestly_ making this easier on you? Believing that your dad doesn’t care? Because I think it hurts you.”

A cascade of feelings erupted in Clarke’s chest. Anger was first and foremost, as it was when she thought of her dad these days. However, after that came the doubt. Doubt that what she believed was truly correct. Clarke still couldn’t keep from thinking over and over about what happened. It was true that her dad had appeared miserable when she was arrested. Clarke couldn’t deny that, and she really didn’t want to. It at least meant that he felt badly about what he had to— What he did. Finally came the hurt. There was a lot of _hurt._ For several different reasons. It hurt that he had just let the guard drag her off. Hurt that he could do that to her. She wondered if he felt as badly about it as she did. What hurt the most, though, was that—despite her best efforts to ignore the feeling—she missed him.

Clarke missed both her parents, but she used to be able to go to her dad about anything. Her mother often had a habit of worrying too much. Of only hearing the first thing Clarke said, and then reacting a little _too_ much. Her father took everything in stride. He heard her out, everything she wanted him to know, and _then_ tried to help her. He had always been the steady one in their family. It seemed like he always knew what to do. Only now, it seemed like what he thought was the best thing for Clarke was getting her locked up in this _horrible_ cell, alone, for the foreseeable future.

It was all so _hard_ to think about. Too much to think about.

“I thought you wanted a blood sample,” she finally said, voice tight.

Disappointment flitted across her mother’s face, and Clarke did her best not to react to it. It wasn’t pleasant to see, and Clarke hated it. She felt like she had failed in some way. Failed to react in the way her mother was obviously expecting her to. That made her a little angry. Clarke was entitled to thinking however she wanted, wasn’t she? Abby couldn’t dictate what she was supposed to think right now, Clarke could figure out whether she wanted to be mad at her father on her own.

Or maybe she failed because she refused to properly think about this.

“Hold your arm out.”

Abby’s voice was heavier than it had been when she got here. Clarke almost wanted to hear it angry again. That would probably be a little easier to handle.

They didn’t speak while Abby collected her sample. Clarke was trying _not_ to think about what her mother had asked her. That was easier said than done. Maybe he _did_ care. At least a little. He had to, it wasn’t like he hadn’t always been there for her before all this. Clarke really couldn’t forget that, and she didn’t want to. But if he did care about her, why….

She couldn’t keep the heavy sigh back.

“Clarke,” Abby said as she put the syringe away. “Don’t forget yourself while you’re in here. Please. I know being angry seems easy now, it seems like it’s helping, but that won’t hold up for long.”

Would forgiving her father really help instead? Clarke didn’t know if it would. Especially since he could have taken steps to prevent this. If he hadn’t tried to undermine Jaha, this all could have been avoided. Her mother had made a point. Her father liked to believe the best in everyone. Clarke was beginning to wonder if that was a wise outlook. It left a lot of room for dishonesty, betrayal, and manipulation. Clarke could understand that far better than she ever would have before. Maybe her parents _had_ trusted Jaha to be their friend. But, even if her father had managed to tell everyone, what then? Who was to say that the Ark would have reacted like he wanted them to? Jake had been counting on a couple thousand people to _all_ think exactly the same as he did, and Clarke was very aware that not everyone was as good a man as her father was. Jaha had certainly made that clear.

Even if she could admit that her father had never stopped caring about her, Clarke still couldn’t ignore that his misplaced optimism had put her in this position. How had he _not_ anticipated something like this? Maybe it was easy to see things in hindsight now, but Clarke also remembered that her father had been willing to risk getting floated to expose everything. He was so willing to throw his life on the line, willing to leave her and her mother behind, alone, to deal with the fallout of his decision, and then what? Was her mother supposed to figure out how to save the Ark all by herself? Clarke couldn’t help but feel that was a sort of selfishness all on its own.

There was a sharp _rap,_ identical to the one Miller had made last time, on her door. Abby sighed, as if again disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to continue talking to Clarke about this. For her part, Clarke was equal parts relieved and upset. Relieved that Abby wouldn’t be able to challenge her any longer about things she wasn’t really eager to think about, but upset that she would be going for so long without seeing her mother again. Clarke wondered if these goodbyes would get any easier on her. Probably not.

Clarke _was_ certain that she was going to once again be thinking of her father repeatedly over the next few weeks. At least she wouldn’t be bored.

* * *

Leaving Clarke wasn’t getting any easier. Abby knew it never would get easy. She hugged Clarke tighter than she had last time, and then it was time to go.

She tried not to let Clarke’s steadfast anger disappoint her too much. This was going to be a process, Abby could easily recognize that. She just wished this all could be so much easier than it actually was. That they could all just go back to being the family they used to be. Abby didn’t want to believe that they were no longer that family. That _Jaha_ could have stripped them of this too. It would just be too much, and if it were so, Abby would probably end up strangling the man with her own hands if they ever got on the ground. He had taken _too much_ from them all.

Miller didn’t say anything as he led her out. She wondered how his son was doing in here. That was the main reason he had been so helpful to her, she realized. He knew what this was like, wondering every day if he would ever get his child back from the Skybox. Wondering if he was going to be forced through the horror of seeing his only child floated for a crime that probably would have never gotten him executed in the old world.

But they no longer lived in that old world, they lived on the Ark. They lived a cold and forced existence up here. Everything was calculated in space. From food rations, to recycled belongings of people long dead, to how many children they could have. Everything about this station was unnatural. It was unnatural what they did to these kids, Abby knew that now far better than she had a month ago. And that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Abby had never in her life considered this issue until her own daughter had been locked up in here.

It was her hope that once they got to the ground, they could throw the entire damned Exodus Charter into some river and forget the thing ever existed. Or, better yet, remember it for the desperation it truly was. The harsh, unforgiving rules they all lived by in the hope that the many could make it back to the ground. If a few petty criminals had to be executed for the rest of them to make it back to Earth, then that was the price they were going to have to pay. Except, Abby wasn’t willing to pay that price. Miller wasn’t willing to pay that price. She bet that if she asked the majority of these kids’ parents, they wouldn’t be any more willing than Abby and Miller were.

She wondered, perhaps for the first time, just how much of their humanity they had sacrificed in their drive to save their species.

But she did not mention any of this to Miller as they made their way to the secure entrance to the Skybox. Nothing she could say right now would be much good. She could try to claim that she really understood what he was going through. But he already knew that. If he didn’t, he would not be helping her. Abby hadn’t _lied_ when she said this was a favor, but this wasn’t particularly a favor _Miller_ owed her. Just the head guard of the Skybox’s division. He had pretty much volunteered to do this for her, and, in fact, it would probably be far more accurate to say that _Abby_ owed Miller a favor after all this was said and done.

With that in mind, she said nothing. It would only come off as empty, insincere words to him. That would be how she viewed it if their roles were switched. The councilor trying to tell a burdened parent that they ‘understood’ what they were going through. But _only_ after the councilor had her own kid locked up. _Only_ after she was going through that same, terrifying helplessness that he lived with everyday. _Only_ after realizing that her position wasn’t enough to save her daughter on its own.

Abby swore instead that she would try as hard as she could to do right by these kids. Words were nothing without actually doing anything to support them.

When she and Miller parted ways, and not really saying much to each other as they did, Abby hurried to get to medical. She wanted to get started as soon as possible. She, Jake, and Raven had been making progress over the past few weeks. Jake and Raven had finished their drone, and were preparing to launch it over the coming days. All that was left was to wait for a time when an airlock wasn’t being as closely watched as it perhaps should. Abby was thinking about cashing in another one of her favors to get this started. She had quite a few stashed in her savings. Before this, Abby wasn’t really known for trading political favors, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

In the meantime, Raven had been helping her gather more data on the medical side of their plans. By exposing herself to more radiation than would typically be recommended. Abby had been livid when she found out what Raven had done. She could still very clearly remember Raven’s smirk.

_‘It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission sometimes, Doc.’_

Fortunately for Raven’s health and Abby’s sanity, her vitals turned out to be fine. Completely healthy, in fact. It seemed that Raven’s blood was just as efficient at filtering radiation as Clarke’s was. It certainly helped to indicate that Clarke’s results weren’t simply a fluke or result of a mutation. Clarke wasn’t a spacewalker, so that meant that Raven’s profession wasn’t the main reason for their new resistance either.

Baby steps. It was slow going, but they _were_ making progress. Enough that Abby was very close to becoming excited. It was an ordeal to keep that from happening. She didn’t want to get too wound up in case it kept her from being objective about their plan. Abby absolutely did not want to become blinded to any potential shortfalls or miscalculations any of them could make along the way. Any false conclusions, or incorrect theories. They needed to be _careful_ more than anything. There was a lot riding on their success or failure.

“Dr. Griffin.”

The voice had her freeze. Abby could just _feel_ the anger surge up.

“Kane.”

His sudden appearance pretty much wiped all other thought from Abby’s mind. No more focus for saving the Ark, for helping Clarke move past Jake’s actions, for Raven’s ill-advised choices. The only thing left was bitter fury. Was he really daring to talk to her right now? After what he did? Abby had thought Kane was smart enough to avoid her. He hadn’t spoken to her in any capacity outside of council meetings, and even then the animosity Abby held towards him was pointedly obvious. Perhaps it was childish, but Jaha had only insisted that Abby hide her contempt towards _him._ He never mentioned Kane.

“Are the prisoners doing okay?” He asked pointedly.

She knew that this was coming. Abby had never been naive enough to believe that Kane, the head of the guard, wouldn’t have noticed her unusual visits to the Skybox. She wasn’t typically the doctor sent to treat the kids there, usually too tied up at the clinic treating those who hadn’t broken the law. Her sudden change in schedule was notable, and far too coincidentally timed with Clarke’s incarceration.

Apparently this was their showdown. Abby wasn't in the mood for games.

“I wouldn’t know,” she told him baldly.

That got Kane’s infamous scowl going. Abby enjoyed seeing it.

“Clarke is in solitary confinement.”

“I don’t care.”

She didn’t. Abby _was not_ going to leave Clarke in there alone for too long. She didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. She had overheard something she had never been intended to hear. And then had impulsively given that fact away because she had been a frightened, angry teenager.

Kane huffed in frustration. “I can’t allow this to continue, Abby. Clarke can’t get special treat—”

Abby wasn’t at all interested in playing by the Ark’s rules any longer. “You will, because allowing me to see my daughter is the only way any of us are going to survive.”

His eyes narrowed as he realized what she was threatening. “Abby, Clarke’s already been charged with treason. You’ll get floated if you make the same decision she did.”

“Dammit, Kane, Clarke didn’t make a _decision!”_ Abby shouted. She wanted to shout some more when he grasped her arm and pulled her into an empty room. However, there was a part underneath all the abject rage she felt towards him that realized this conversation should probably occur away from anyone who could overhear them.

“Did you think I wanted this?” Kane hissed at her once they were alone. “We need to think about what really matters.”

“Don’t you _dare_ tell me what ‘matters!’” Abby was livid. “The _only_ thing that matters to me right now is making sure my daughter is safe. You and Jaha put me in this damned position, and I’m making the best of it. If you didn’t want me focusing on Clarke, you probably should have left her out of this.”

“I couldn’t let Jake turn the Ark to anarchy! That’s what would have happened if he told everyone. You can believe in him as much as you want, but I can’t afford to let his optimism get in the way of protecting us all. That’s _my_ job, Abby! To make sure that we don’t tear each other or the Ark apart before we make it to the ground!”

“Then you better hope that Clarke stays safe!” Abby snapped back. “Because if _anything_ happens to her, everything will be for nothing. You won’t _have_ a job anymore, because the Ark will be _dead!_ You thought you could back us all into this corner, thought we’d do whatever you and Thelonious wanted, but _I’m_ taking control now. Jake and I are our only chance in surviving this. _We_ have the plan, _no one_ else knows what we’re doing. I’ve made sure that _every single_ data report, test, readout, and scrap of information we have has been locked away. We have two years to figure this out. You’re going to need twenty to break the encryption Jake’s put on those files.”

Kane gaped at her in utter shock. Abby couldn’t deny that the look was a satisfying one. It was clear that he had underestimated her resolve to keep Clarke safe. In a way, that wasn’t surprising. Kane wasn’t a father. He had no idea what it felt like to have his daughter’s life threatened. He wasn’t Abby, Jake, or Miller. Or any of the other parents he’d ripped children away from for whatever crime they committed, serious or not. He was probably only now realizing that he had made a grave mistake using Clarke to force Abby and Jake into this.

“I would have helped you regardless, you know,” she said quietly when he apparently couldn’t find the words to respond to her threat. “This is the Ark. It’s our home. We’ve never really agreed with each other, Marcus, but I know that we’ve always thought we were doing what’s best for our people. I know on some level that you care for us all in your own way. The only person I care about more than the Ark is _my daughter._ And you took her away from me. You probably could have taken Jake and I wouldn’t be willing to allow the Ark to burn around us all for him. But you took _Clarke_ instead. I don’t think I even have the words to properly explain to you just how badly you and Thelonious messed up. I will do _anything_ for her. Don’t ever doubt that. We could have all worked together, but you threatened the only person I’d allow the Ark to die over. So now we’re going to do this the way _I_ want to.

 _“Nothing_ is going to happen to Clarke. I will be continuing my visits, though I’ll make sure no one will ask too many questions for _‘order’s’_ sake,” she sneered. “Once Jake and I have figured out all the issues we need to get through for our plan to work, Clarke will be pardoned. Jake and I will be pardoned for whatever treason you think we’ve committed for this. _Nothing_ is going to happen to our family, you’re going to leave us the hell alone. And the same will go for anyone else who might have helped us,” she added, thinking of Raven and the boy Jake had told her Raven was working for.

She threw down the gauntlet. Now all that was left was to wait for Kane to respond. To wait for him to go to Thelonious with her demands and wait even more for _him_ to respond. Abby wasn’t going to lose, however. They started this game of blackmail, and Abby was going to finish it, no matter what it took. Because they apparently doubted the lengths she would go to ensure her daughter’s safety. It was honestly a shame that Thelonious apparently couldn’t understand this. He had placed Wells in the same danger Clarke was in, even if his chances were currently better than hers. Abby didn’t want to think about just what that meant, she felt sick on Wells’s behalf.

“And Wells. Nothing will happen to Wells either,” she added quietly. If Thelonious wouldn’t look after his own son, wouldn’t put his care above his duty, then Abby would do it for him.

Because apparently Thelonious and Kane didn’t realize that caring for their children was just as critical as it was caring for the Ark. Clarke and Wells didn’t ask to be born. That choice was made for them. And the moment Abby, Jake, and Thelonious had made the choice to have children, they also made the promise care for them for their entire lives. Thelonious had clearly forgotten that promise. Abby would _never_ make that mistake.

“It didn’t need to go this far, Abby,” Kane finally said. He seemed resigned. “If Jake had only _listened_ to Jaha, none of this needed to happen.”

“But it _did_ happen,” Abby ruthlessly pointed out. “We all made our choices, Kane, as you and Thelonious seem to enjoy pointing out. You made the choice to make this about my daughter. If we ever make it through this, _never_ make that mistake again. Because I’m going to take this as far as I need to.”

Kane shook his head. “I’m trying to do what’s best for the Ark. You’re being blinded by—”

“I don’t give a damn!” Abby ground out. “I don’t _care,_ Kane. You keep doing what you think is best for the rest of them. But Clarke is no longer your concern. _We’re_ no longer your concern.”

He was silent for several moments, and it made Abby wonder if he was going to try calling her bluff. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t actually a bluff. She hoped that he was smart enough to realize that.

“I’m sorry it came to this,” he finally said, surprising her. “It isn’t what I wanted, despite what you probably think of me.”

Abby couldn’t keep a harsh laugh from escaping her throat. “Well, it certainly wasn’t what I wanted either. But this is how things _are._ And I’m going to make the best of them. Go ahead and tell Thelonious about this. I know he’s ordered you to keep him updated. _I’m_ certainly not going to be speaking with him right now.”

No, she was going to stay far, _far_ away from him for as long as she could, especially when she was as angry as she is right now. If she didn’t, Abby wasn’t certain she’d be entirely responsible for her actions.

Kane went to leave, but paused for a moment at the door. Abby wondered if he was about to level his own promise against her. It certainly wouldn’t surprise her. She’d essentially ripped away all semblance of authority from him, and if there was one thing Marcus Kane was known for, it was his unerring respect of authority.

“I hope you get what you want, Abby.”

Silence was left in his wake, and it took several moments for Abby to recover from his unexpected words. For a single beat, Abby wondered if she had perhaps misjudged Marcus Kane. Eventually she disregarded the thought. It wasn’t important. They were just words. Kane had still taken her daughter away from her. Nothing else mattered right now. Abby shook her head and continued on to medical. She needed to get her tests done, and she needed to tell Jake about what happened.

Abby very much doubted that this was over. Thelonious wasn’t going to take her insurrection lying down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke makes progress with her grudge. However, it's one step forward and two steps back. I've always figured that Clarke's gotten her unerring, if naive, expectation of the best of people from her father. And yet, she eventually has this view of people dimmed by several people in the show, Lexa most notably because of her betrayal. I figured that she would have this idealistic view dimmed even sooner if the man she cultivated this trait from did something to make her doubt it himself.
> 
> As for Abby, well. This is apparently 'Mama Grizzly Bear Abby.' She's been in the making for a while now. She wasn't so much as poked as she was rather whacked over the nose with a club. I believe that the reason Abby was a failure as chancellor was that she's unable to completely lead with her head. She had moments in which she's capable of making decisions disregarding her heart, but all of those moments are rather few and far between. And absolutely none of them ever have anything to do with Clarke. Abby's utterly incapable of putting absolutely anything before Clarke. And her adopted ward Raven to a slightly lesser extent. People give Abby a worse rap than she deserves in my humble opinion. She's a crappy leader, sometimes makes mistakes as a mother. Some of those mistakes are worse than others. But who's perfect? She'd do anything for Clarke, and I can't say that I can hold that against her.


	6. Six

There probably wasn’t another way this could get any worse. Thelonious had thought that he could keep this under control. Make sure he could do what was best for his people, for the Ark. Instead it seemed that he was being challenged at every turn.

First it had been Jake, insisting that everyone know the truth. A truth that Thelonious was  _ certain  _ would cause catastrophe on the Ark if was allowed to go forward. He didn’t seem to understand that people were always out to get what they wanted. Even the most noble of them had something they either coveted or wanted to protect with everything that they had.

Like Abby, as Marcus had just finished informing him. She was his latest disaster. Thelonious had never imagined that she would actually go through with her promise to make him pay for what he did to Clarke. He was certain that was why she was doing this. Why else would she risk the entire Ark for her daughter? He’d promised he’d give her a pardon, hadn’t he? Thelonious wasn’t sure what to do with her now. Clarke or Abby. Clarke was supposed to keep Jake in line, but if Abby and Jake were going to use whatever information or plan they had formed and hold it for ransom to demand their daughter’s safety, then Clarke wasn’t quite the bargaining chip he thought she was going to be.

Even  _ Wells,  _ his own son, wasn’t fitting into this quite as he planned. Thelonious hadn’t seen Wells since his arrest. He was certain he was doing well. Wells had always been strong, and Thelonious hoped that he would understand why he was doing this. It was for the good of them all. Thelonious couldn’t afford to show favoritism.

After all, that was probably what had gotten them all into this mess in the first place. Had he simply floated Jake, perhaps Abby wouldn’t have had it in her to turn against him as she had. There was a part of him that was impressed by her ingenuity, impressed by her ability to turn the tables on him. Clarke was just one girl. He had watched her grow up, felt a fondness for her just as he did for his own son, but she wasn’t the Ark. He couldn’t afford to think of her wellbeing if it meant that sacrificing it secured the Ark’s future. That was the reason he was voted into office. It was his  _ duty,  _ above all else, to protect their people’s future. People like Abby refused to see things with that kind of objectivity.

To be honest, Thelonious was not fond of this kind of political maneuvering. It seemed that Abby was unexpectedly better at it than either he, and likely Abby herself, ever thought she would be. The woman had only ever been concerned with their people’s health. She wore her heart on her sleeve and often didn’t hold her thoughts as closely to her chest as she perhaps should. Thelonious had always previously counted on her as an ally in the council. She was predictable. If it involved their people’s safety, or health, he could count on her to vote accordingly. However, it seemed that bringing Clarke into this… game—it was distasteful to think of his efforts in this way—had introduced a wild unpredictability in his old friend that Thelonious never would have thought her capable of. She was willing to sacrifice everything they had ever worked for, this council and the councils long passed, to ensure her daughter’s safety. A safety that Thelonious had ensured he’d give her once this was done.

In any case, he had been outmaneuvered. Abby was apparently the better player. His only choice to bring back control now was to get aid from someone who could play this game even better than she could. He hated to do it. Thelonious had  _ never  _ liked her. She was slimy, probably a habitual liar, and was only in office for the betterment of herself. However much Abby hated him now, Thelonious could at least claim that he had never been as bad as the one person he was being forced to ask for aid from. She had pushed him into this, really. She and Jake should have done what he had told them to. It was not their place to undermine him like this. Unfortunately for them all, the Ark now seemed to be held in the hands of two overemotional parents intent on dooming them all if it meant getting their single, sixteen year old daughter back.

His door  _ buzzed  _ drawing him from his regrets and failures. Thelonious now knew it was time for him to be on his guard more than ever before. There was a part of him that wasn’t certain if this was the best decision, but when he thought further on it, he wasn’t sure where else to turn. Certainly Abby and Jake were now far beyond his influence. He would have been willing to speaking with them further, but it seemed the Griffins were intent on doing whatever they wanted. Those sorts of people could never be reasoned with. Especially if they felt threatened. Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring Clarke into this at all. It had apparently brought his already emotional friends to their breaking point.

The door opened to reveal his expected visitor. Marcus had not stayed for very long. Thelonious could tell that he was now extremely uncomfortable with this entire situation. It made him wonder just what Abby had said to the man. He had always been steadfast in his duties, and now the one person who had always accused him of being too soft was showing regrets. It was ironic, and Thelonious wasn’t sure if he should appreciate the sight for what it was, or worry over whether or not everyone on this station was losing themselves.

And to think he thought his term was to be easy. They were only meant to be a link in getting to the ground. The end of the Ark, whether by tragedy or triumph, was always meant to be beyond him. He had never expected that these sorts of difficult decisions would be presented for him to deal with so jarringly.

“Thelonious,” Diana Sydney greeted him with a smile. It couldn’t be called a pleasant smile. “What do I owe the honor?”

He hadn’t told her why he had called her here. In a way, Thelonious was still nervous about telling anyone else about the Ark. He knew that this needed to be kept as close to heart as possible if they were all going to survive. But clearly that plan had passed him by as well.

“Please come in,” he told her and directed her to one of his couches. It wouldn’t do to be overheard speaking too candidly in the hallway. “There’s a lot we need to discuss. The short of it is, I need your help.”

Diana didn’t bothering hiding the amusement off her face. The last they spoke, Thelonious had actually denounced her term of office. It had been filled with an unusual amount of corruption that had never quite made it back to implicating her directly. Diana still had quite a few fans because of that fact. Her ability to escape culpability was exactly what Thelonious needed right now. Clearly she knew exactly how politics on the Ark worked. If anyone could wrest back control from Abby, it would be her.

“Really? You weren’t very interested in my help the last I offered it,” she pointed out primly. “Though I am glad to see that you’re rethinking that decision.”

He had no doubt that she was.

“This isn’t about us or our personal views of each other,” Thelonious told her, getting right down to it. If he let her, Diana would dominate this conversation and he would lose yet more control of what was happening around him. “This is about the Ark.”

“Of course,” she answered quickly. “Tell me what you need.”

There was a part of Thelonious that wanted to be suspicious of every single offer of help she gave him. Diana was the sort who would want something in return. The issue was that Thelonious currently had nothing to offer her in the short-term. The biggest risk he was taking here was that if they were successful in stopping Abby, that meant that Diana would likely ask him for something much more permanent or serious in the stead of a favor he did not have for her now.

She was a snake waiting to strike in his mind.

But she was also a devil he knew. Abby was turning out to be an entirely unknown demon.

“We have two years before the Ark’s oxygen recycling systems fail.”

He decided to come right out with it. Better to see how Diana would react in the face of their most serious issue before unveiling every problem he was having. He didn’t want to overplay his hand.

There was a flicker of surprise on Diana’s face before she could school her expression. Clearly she hadn’t expected to hear what he had said. It made Thelonious wonder why she had not spotted this problem during her term. Had she been too busy dealing with cheating the Ark out of rations and supplies they needed? All to gain favors, deals, and approval she had wanted to put herself at the top?

“You’re certain of this?” She asked curiously.

“Jake Griffin came to me with the problem himself.”

“Jake,” Diana echoed thoughtfully. “He’s a good man. Maybe a little too good to properly deal with this situation. How does he plan to fix this?”

“He doesn’t,” Thelonious told her bluntly. “He tells me there is no way to repair the life support. We’ve dragged too many years out of them than they are capable of giving us anymore.”

Diana was silent for several moments. Clearly thinking over what he had told her and probably trying to figure out why he needed  _ her  _ for in all of this. From all the he told her, he was aware she knew that if anyone could manage to figure out a way to deal with this, Jake Griffin should have been that man. He had yet to tell her that Jake Griffin was one of his larger problems at the moment.

“What about the Exodus Initiative?” She asked him.

“We still have no way of bringing everyone to the ground,” Thelonious reminded her. “It wouldn’t be survivable anyway. You know that.”

_ “You _ know that I wasn’t able to figure out how to fix the flaws in the Exodus Initiative,” Diana reminded him. “Why have you invited me here, Thelonious. What do you really want? I’m not an engineer. I can’t help Jake Griffin with this crisis, and I don’t have any contacts who are smarter he is. You know where my talents lie. What do you need with them?”

Thelonious sighed. It seemed that Diana wasn’t going to allow him to string her along. She was too good to allow him control over this conversation. “Jake wanted to tell everyone about it. I couldn’t allow him to do that. It would cause a mass panic.”

He wasn’t sure why he was trying to justify himself to Diana Sydney. He doubted she really cared about his decisions. Just how she could benefit from them herself.

She rose a single eyebrow at him curiously. “And how did you stop him from doing that? Griffin is a man who would have been quite determined to do what he thought was the right thing.”

Her voice had an amused edge to it, as if she couldn’t believe that such a naive, well-intentioned man existed.

“I arrested his daughter. She’s in on charges of stealing, assault, and treason.”

“Really? Jake and Abby Griffin’s daughter is guilty of all that?” She laughed. “You don’t have to say anything else, Thelonious. I think I can see where this is going. Whether any of those charges are true or not, I can’t see Abby taking her daughter’s fate lying down. Was it blackmail? I can’t see them helping you if their daughter’s review is already determined.”

Was he really that transparent? Or was Diana guessing so easily because she could easily see herself doing these same things? Thelonious didn’t know, and perhaps those questions weren’t what he should be focusing on right now.

“I told them I would have pardoned her if they found a way to save the Ark,” he sighed tiredly. “It seems Abby didn’t believe me. She’s holding her and Jake’s plan hostage to ensure Clarke’s pardon.”

“You leaned on them too hard,” Diana told him knowingly. Thelonious tried not to grimace. “Push people too hard, and they will do surprising things to fight back. You want me to help you with Abby, don’t you? This will require a subtle touch. If Abby believes that you are threatening her further, she’ll probably turn to more drastic measures.”

Thelonious shook his head disbelievingly. “What drastic measures? We’re all already dying! I had this figured out.”

“No, you had them pushed against a wall. Thelonious, you’ve failed to realize that if Abby is fighting this hard for her daughter’s life, she actually  _ has  _ a plan to save the Ark. She’s not bluffing with you. Perhaps that would normally seem like she has the advantage, but the Ark can’t lie to us. If it’s really falling apart, there are ways to find that out, ways that won’t rely on the Griffins to save us all. They have a head start on us, but we can figure out what they know. They can’t hide the Ark itself. Jake and Abby Griffin are probably the sharpest minds we have, however. I don’t think we should try to out race them with this. You have Clarke instead.”

There was a sharp, almost black gleam to Diana’s eye as she thought over what she would do in his place. It made Thelonious distinctly uncomfortable and he wondered just what he had invited into his plans. There wasn’t much else he could do with Clarke besides actually float her. Something he actually couldn’t do until she was eighteen, and something he would rather avoid doing if he could, anyway. Abby was already at an unstable point. Marcus had ensured him that losing Clarke wasn’t an option for her in any way, shape, or form. A part of him was actually intimidated with the thought of truly taking Clarke away from her. He didn’t know how she would react. And there was also a part of him that regretted the lengths he had to go to in the first place. Clarke needn’t have suffered for this if Jake had only listened to him.

“What would you do with her?” Thelonious asked guardedly.

“For now? Nothing. We don’t know what Jake and Abby know. You have to find that out first. And then figure out if it’s something we can apply Clarke  _ to.  _ There’s no one else on this station, aside from Sinclair, who can probably find an answer to the Ark’s oxygen crisis. Sinclair’s almost as honest as Jake is, he won’t help you with this. Instead, we need to figure out  _ why  _ the Griffins believe they can actually save Clarke. We need to find out just what our options actually  _ are.  _ We already know they exist. Abby wouldn’t be nearly this confident if there was nothing there. I’ll set my people on it. See if they can spot what Jake did at the very least. Watch who Jake and Abby are talking to. I doubt they’re doing this completely alone. Don’t worry, Thelonious. We’ll get this under control. We’ll save the Ark together.”

The smile she sent him was sharp and it made him uncomfortable. Thelonious didn’t think that Diana interested in saving the Ark beyond her own self-interests. She lived here just like the rest of them. If she wanted to survive, she’d make sure the Ark did as well. That was the only reason Thelonious was confident in asking for her help. Confident that the help he requested from her would actually pay off.

However, that did not erase the sinking feeling in his stomach. The striking feeling that circumstances on the Ark were going to get far worse before they got better.

* * *

“Wait!” She whispered sharply, holding her hand up to stop Jake from bumping into her. She watched impatiently as a guard walked down the hallway they had been about to enter. “I thought Abby said this hallway was going to be clear.”

She grumbled only a  _ little  _ bit.

“She can’t know everything,” Jake reminded her quietly. “Abby only has so much influence on the Ark as it is. We’re lucky she could get this many guards to look the other way.”

Raven was very much aware that a  _ lot  _ of what they were doing was relying on luck. It wasn’t exactly a great reminder for her. Raven always seemed to have the  _ shittiest  _ luck.

It was the sleeping period for this section of the Ark. Mecha Station, to be exact. There was not a single place on the Ark that was ever completely inactive, but sleeping periods almost always guaranteed less people. And less people meant less attention. Which meant things like buying the occasional tank of moonshine, going on illegal spacewalks, or leading your brand new buddy on an adventure to launch an illegal drone were now a lot easier to do.

In other words, doing the fun stuff in life.

Raven knew Mecha Station the best. She lived here, got up to trouble here with Finn, fixed broken shit here, and otherwise made sure she knew the entire station far better than she probably had any right to. What could she say? Raven liked to know things.

It made the most sense for her to lead Jake to the airlock they wanted to use.

Abby and Jake had seemed nervous all day. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something juicy had gone down, but that’s exactly what Raven was. A bona fide genius. It hadn’t been at all difficult to call them out on whatever it was they were trying to hide from her. It actually came as a relief to know that they  _ hadn’t  _ been trying to hide it from her in the end, in fact. It just turned out that the Griffins had honestly been some rather good people thrust into a pretty crappy situation. And they seemed to be absolutely  _ terrible  _ at keeping their cool in the face of being bad. Which was exactly what they were being forced into. Becoming actual criminals. Raven had never been one to  _ really  _ get into the worst sorts of trouble before now, if she was completely honest. However, she could see the necessity of it now more than ever. She had a bit more practice at risking arrest than Abby and Jake did, though.

If she were  _ completely  _ honest, Raven would admit that all this spy-like, secret shit was actually fun. She didn’t think Abby or Jake would appreciate hearing that from her, however. They were wound up enough already.

Which meant that after this ‘mission’ she and Jake were on was all wrapped up, Raven absolutely  _ needed  _ to tell them that.

Their faces would probably be priceless.

At any rate, it turns out that Kane had called Abby out on what she was doing sooner rather than later. And Abby had shut him down like a badass. Raven had given her the high five she deserved.

She wasn’t ignorant of what that meant, though. Raven knew now that they were going to have to play this even more carefully than they already were. Chancellor Jackass was probably going to be watching them for any mistake they made. Anything that would give him back his shitty control over Clarke. Raven didn’t know much about the kid, but if she was anything like Jake and Abby then that meant she was a good kid. What she was going through was bullshit.

Save the girl, save the boyfriend, and save the Ark. That was what she had to look forward to. Raven liked a good challenge, and this was turning out to be the biggest one she’d ever had.

It was awesome, if not a little scary.

They waited a few more moments before continuing on. Abby had been very clear that they were on a time limit. Still, it was slow going to the airlock they needed. It was under emergency ‘maintenance.’ Just like the airlock she and Finn had used for her spacewalk, except there was absolutely nothing wrong with this one. It just happened to be suffering from a case of ‘Please look the other way while my husband and pet mechanic fiddle with it, thanks, Dr. Abby Griffin.’

Raven did wonder how these ‘favors’ came about. Did she just email this shit to people? Or was that too risky? Secret notes passed to someone else in the middle of a busy hallway? No, writing this down was probably too great a risk all on its own. Maybe Doc simply just walked up to people and got stuff done.

She did think it would be more fun if Abby had some kind of secret code or something. It was decided. Raven would never ask how it happened. She’d just assume that Doc had some kind of secret code made up of shapes and shit written down on a wrinkled sticky note that she pressed into the hands of her contacts while she passed them in the middle of the busiest hallway on Alpha. Yes. That sounded properly badass for what they were doing.

Never did she want to learn the truth and be gravely disappointed by the undoubtedly boring, ordinary-ness of it all.

Jake tapped her on the shoulder before she could pass the airlock. Raven shot him an apologetic grin. Yeah, she needed to get her head back in the game. She could think about this stuff later.

The place was deserted as they made their way down to the airlock. At least Abby had been right about  _ this  _ hall being empty. Raven didn’t think it’d really work out for them if they got caught at this juncture. Jake was carrying the drone. It was a heavy piece of crap built from harvested parts from all over the damn Ark.

It was a piece of art.

If Raven and Jake could make  _ this  _ jumble of trash work and save the Ark with it, they were even more amazing than she thought they already were.

It was connected to a secure tablet Jake had already set up for them. All they had to do was set it in the middle of the airlock, press the release button, and let the thing go flying out into space. The software on it would detect the nearest landmass, the big ass target of Earth right under them, and go careening into it like it was personally insulted. After that, it would transmit radiation readings and  _ hopefully  _ the first pictures of the ground anyone would see that wouldn’t be older than 97 freaking years.

Jake was already ahead of her as he stepped back into the hallway with her, drone ready and waiting to get floated. “Set the decompression cycle,” he told her as he turned the tablet on and activated the drone.

She gave him a lazy salute and did as ordered. Raven could spot the tension in Jake’s shoulders. Poor guy. She wondered at the sort of normal life the Griffins had to have had before all this crap went down. By this time of night, he and his kid were probably… well... fuck if she knew. Raven really wasn’t sure what she would have done with her dad if she had known who he even was, let alone if he lived with them. To be honest, Jake and Abby were probably the only people aside from Finn who have shown even the  _ slightest  _ interest in her personal well being. She still remembered the color Abby’s face had taken on when she found out Raven had taken a few  _ small  _ risks during her last spacewalk. The Doc had absolutely insisted on an all out medical exam right then and there.

Well fuck.

Raven  _ liked  _ the Griffins.

And she was  _ almost  _ sure they liked her too.

What in the  _ hell  _ was she supposed to do now? Raven wasn’t used to people  _ caring.  _ Finn cared, but he’d always been there for her, and vice-versa. They’d formed their bond because each of them knew what it was like to be forgotten. The Griffins just seemed to throw out their concern, their questions about her day, their friendliness,  _ all of it _ out like freaking candy. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to make of it.

Her attention to this worrying line of thought was broken when the drone  _ whirred  _ to life like it was upset they had dared to turn it on. Well, Raven never claimed the thing was particularly elegant. Still, it was on and hovering above the deck. Jake turned to shoot her an excited grin, turning the tablet towards her. The cameras were working just fine, showing Raven four little miniature screens of herself and Jake, the airlock behind the drone, the ceiling, and the grubby floor.

“All right,” she grinned back. “Let’s get this started then.”

She slammed her hand down on the release. There was a  _ whooshing  _ noise, a little too reminiscent of the last time Raven had been near an airlock, but she tried not to let that crappy memory get her down too badly. The drone was sucked out into the blackness of space and Raven really hoped that for once, the Ark had just floated something for an actual  _ reason.  _ One that would really help them all instead of punishing some random sap who got caught stealing a few pain pills or something.

The tablet showed a dizzying rendition of stars spinning by as the drone tumbled for a bit before its thrusters righted itself. After that, it only took a moment for it to zoom towards Earth and become engulfed by the red-hot fire of reentry. She and Jake waited, not even daring to breathe, as the scant few minutes passed. Waiting to see if the ugly thing would make it down and make all their work, their sneaking, and… yeah… a  _ little  _ stealing, worth it.

When it slammed to the ground, Raven tried to keep her disappointment under control. Three of the four cameras were obviously smashed to pieces. They only depicted the fuzzy, gray screens of a severed connection. The last was completely black and completely blank. Welp, there went that idea….

“Wait,” Jake said, grabbing her wrist before she could get up. “It’s at least broadcasting readings.  _ Wow….” _

Raven glanced over curiously at what had gotten Jake so speechless. Once she saw the numbers, she understood immediately.

The radiation levels.

They were  _ less  _ than what Raven was used to dealing with during her spacewalks. A  _ lot  _ less.

_ “Please  _ tell me we can use these numbers to rub Jaha’s face into how shitty he is,” Raven begged him. She wanted to be there when they told him they found out they could make it to the ground.

Again, though, the drone stole their attention. The last camera. The blank one. It…  _ shook  _ slightly before a grubby, smeared picture was revealed. As if something had wiped away what now appeared to have been dirt covering the lens.

Or, more accurately, some _ one. _

Because, and Raven would have never believed this shit if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, an  _ actual, fucking hand  _ lifted away from the drone before the signal cut entirely.

“Was that…. Did you see…?  _ Holy shit!” _

Jake was just as shell shocked as she was.

There were  _ people on the ground.  _ The Ark had not only been wrong about how long it would take them to get back to Earth, they’d been  _ really  _ wrong about how it was unsurvivable. Raven wished in that moment that time travel was possible. Then she could go back and ask those apparent dumbasses why in the  _ hell  _ they had all been orbiting away up here if there had been a chance they could have lived on the ground from the very beginning.

How many mistakes had been made to lead them all here? Raven wondered in that moment what this was all  _ for.  _ And whether all this trouble they had all gone to keeping this rustbucket up here, floating people left and right, was it all  _ worth it? _

Then again, those people could also be freaky mutants suited to living through the bombs. Who really knew who or  _ what  _ they truly were? Or maybe they were just normal people carving an existence out down there. That was the beauty of it, wasn’t it? Raven had  _ no fucking idea  _ what it was like down there, or who was down there. What she did know was that in the span of  _ seconds  _ she and Jake had been given more than they ever would have hoped for. They’d been given the golden-freaking-goose. Handed to them on a platter.

Now they  _ knew  _ that it was possible to survive on Earth.

Raven loved a good challenge. If these people had managed to survive down there, she could too. Never let it be said that Raven Reyes couldn’t do something. Before, she  _ had  _ wondered a bit if this was truly possible. If they really  _ could  _ prove everything and everyone they had ever known wrong and make it to the ground an entire century earlier than they expected to.  _ No one  _ had been questioning this stuff. Maybe they should have been watching the Earth from the very beginning. Instead of ignoring it and just assuming that their ancestors on the Ark, the same fuckers who’d been a part of ending the old world in the first place, were right in all this. Because they were obviously some pretty  _ stupid  _ people.

“I can’t  _ wait  _ to see Abby’s face when we show her this,” Raven breathed out.

Because  _ that  _ face was going to be even more priceless than the one Raven had originally planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a good 'ole villain chapter. I apologize for making y'all sit through Jaha's thoughts. I wanted to get into his head, though. First to explore how I think he's just a really *weak* leader. He's not even particularly evil in Season 1. He's just a cowardly man trying to hold onto his position and hoping to abandon his people in death as an easy way out at the earliest opportunity. Second, we needed to see Diana. An actual evil jerk. I liked what she brought to the table in S1. The way that she just stepped in and created this power struggle between the class dynamics on the Ark. It was interesting the see the working class flock to her despite the fact that she was manipulating them all for her own self-interests.
> 
> And then the lazy motherfuckers just killed her off in one of the cheapest ways possible. She could have been a *huge* pain in the ass on the ground. But no. Apparently her only purpose was to conveniently cripple the Ark because the Exodus ship's systems were apparently so tied up to the Ark's that it didn't have a fail-save overrride in case people either fucked up or someone like Diana came along and stole the thing from it's hanger. Seriously. ?????????
> 
> Ahem. Anyway, to make up for sitting through Jaha, here's Raven's first POV chapter. She was fun to write. Both in terms of humor and delving into her Griffin adoption storyline. Abby and Raven have such a neat relationship in canon. I don't see Jake being too different from Abby in this respect either.
> 
> Oh, and they learn there are people on the ground.
> 
> Also, I hope I don't get carpal tunnel from typing over 10k words in a day. I was too excited to take a break after Five.


	7. Seven

She still had a hard time believing it. After all this, after surviving up here for so long—struggling to remember what the world below them was really like—they had learned that perhaps they hadn’t needed to flee Earth at all.

Abby had been utterly astounded when Jake and Raven showed her the footage. She had immediately known something was up. Raven was wearing a smirk that Abby had long since learned she only wore when she either did something she knew Abby wouldn’t like, or wanted to say something she knew Abby wouldn’t react well to. ‘Well’ in this case referring to the sputtering, stunned response she had for what they learned.

But there was no use wondering what could have been. They had all been born on the Ark, for better or worse. What mattered now was ensuring that they didn't all die on it. That was their biggest problem. Abby could confirm that the ground was livable as much as she wanted, which she did. The radiation levels the drone reported fell well within the parameters Abby considered safe for every person she'd managed to gain a blood sample from.

That had taken some time, collecting enough samples for Abby to be pleased with the variation. Time and care, as Abby still needed to be very vigilant of any overtly curious people wondering why she was collecting so much blood. Over the course of the past four months, Abby had been collecting from across stations and age groups. She had to be  _ sure  _ about this, certain that each and every person on the Ark could filter radiation out of their system like her family and the spacewalkers could.

After that, Raven came the rescue as she’d had ever since they started. She was the only one who could actually expose as many of the samples Abby had collected to any sort of significant radiation. There had been more spacewalks scheduled than usual over the past four months. The council had been forced to overturn their previous policy of limiting them after Jake and Sinclair had finally appealed to them. The Ark was falling apart around them. It was only a matter of time until the council would  _ have  _ to be told of the failing life support. As it was, spacewalks were needed now more than ever to repair various systems, parts, and pieces of their ailing home.

However, there was  _ one  _ good thing about the increased walks. Abby had  _ very  _ carefully concealed a different set of blood samples in Raven’s suit for every mission she went on. That had been her chance to test her hypothesized theory, and she took full advantage of it. Exposing the blood to the increased radiation in space was one of the only ways Abby could confirm that this new resistance was a trait the entire Ark shared, rather than just a genetic mutation shared across a very small collection of individuals.

Each sample responded flawlessly.

It was astounding. Learning that Earth was survivable was astounding. Four months, and Abby  _ still  _ couldn’t get over it. That same excitement that she had been trying to quell incessantly ever since she had learned they actually had a  _ chance  _ to make it off the Ark was threatening to break down the walls she had built to keep it at bay in every moment.

But there was just one ‘ _ small’  _ problem.

There weren’t enough escape pods or Exodus ships to get everyone to the ground.

Abby hadn’t known that. To be honest, Abby had no idea how the Ark had originally planned for them all to return to Earth. She knew that there was a plan,  _ everything  _ they did on the Ark was at the very least outlined. Abby’s generation had a part to play in that plan just as Clarke’s did and the future generation after. Their part had simply been conservation. They were one hundred years early, and as such  _ no one  _ spoke of the challenges the Ark would have to overcome in order to actually get home. But Jake and Raven knew of those problems. Between the both of them, they knew practically every inch of the Ark. And as such, they had come to a very obvious conclusion.

Their population was too big. It would be physically impossible to get all of their people to the ground.

Seven hundred, Jake had told her.

_ Seven hundred. _

There was just under three thousand people on the Ark. Seven hundred was just a  _ fraction  _ of their population. The number had Abby’s blood boiling. For all of their planning, for all of the Ark’s insistence on the one child policy,  _ still  _ their population had actually  _ grown  _ since the stations had joined together. Abby wondered just  _ what  _ the chancellors of the past and Jaha himself had been hoping for. Ships would not just materialize out of thin air to match their people’s growth. There  _ was  _ no way to build any more either, they had absolutely  _ no  _ raw materials. Just what the Ark itself could give them.

Abby knew that could only mean one thing. The Ark had  _ always  _ planned to choose who would go down and who would stay. Who would live or die. They had been  _ lied  _ to for ninety-seven years. Every single solitary person on this station had been led to believe that all of their hopes for their future, for their families, would be in working towards going home. She wondered just what they would do when they learned that  _ most  _ of them, not just some or even a few, were surviving up here for  _ nothing.  _ Their families wouldn’t be going down. They were striving for a future that had  _ never  _ been intended for them.

It was that truth that had Abby admitting that she might have been wrong to keep the Ark’s status hidden. Perhaps it would have caused a panic, but since Jake had told her that not everyone could go to Earth, Abby realized that Jaha had a much bigger concern than quelling riots or looting.

He was afraid to  _ tell them.  _ The coward was terrified that he would have had to tell the entire Ark that only a select few would ever go down to Earth. That so,  _ so many  _ would be abandoned up here to suffer a fate they had dreaded since the Ark came together. She wondered if Jaha had ever truly cared about them. Perhaps he did, in his own way, but Abby wondered just why he had taken the Chancellor’s pin if he wasn’t able to face disaster.  _ Abby and Jake  _ had been tasked to save the Ark. Thelonious had expected them to do the bulk of the lifting and keep him informed of what they were doing, until Abby had let him know in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t going to answer to him. He had not thought to actively keep up with them. He hadn’t asked them any questions, hadn’t had them supervised by someone he trusted. It was as if Thelonious had actually trusted them to do as he wished without so much as a protest.

Well, Abby had certainly protested.

They had one year and seven months left of air. She, Jake, and Raven had found all the answers they needed, but now they were stuck. Trapped by the lack of foresight the Ark had cultivated for ninety-seven years. It was simply not an option for Abby to condemn so many to their deaths, and Jake wholeheartedly agreed with her. However, the Ark still didn’t have the resources to build more ships. There would be no easy way to fix this problem, if it was even fixable at all. And if the Ark had always planned to choose who would actually go down, Abby was under absolutely no doubt that they planned to take the best, brightest, and most politically powerful people and leave the rest.

The ‘rest’ more than likely being Clarke and the other kids in the Skybox. Why would they take criminals, after all? Leaving them on the Ark to their fates would simply be a more efficient way to float them all. That thought had Abby grinding her teeth in frustration. They’d gotten this far into saving Clarke, only to meet an insurmountable roadblock. Abby could not insist putting the Skybox kids on a ship without giving away that the ground was livable. And she was unwilling to do that until Clarke was pardoned. But Clarke wasn’t the only kid Abby was now concerned for. Finn was who Raven had worked so hard for, had helped them so readily for. Abby had long since started to regard Raven as a friend, and she’s proven to be an invaluable one at that. Then there was Miller, who had so brazenly helped her keep Clarke sane. Abby was  _ never  _ going to forget that, she  _ owed  _ his son the same favor he had given to her daughter. Then there was Wells to think of. Poor Wells who seemed to have been forgotten in all this. It was his  _ father  _ who had betrayed him so completely. Abby had no idea if Wells even knew what was going on. If he even knew if Clarke was okay, if he knew that Thelonious supposedly planned on his freedom.

And with so many kids Abby now felt she had a responsibility to, could she actually leave the rest to their fates? The answer to that question was an unequivocal  _ no.  _ She would not be the Ark, would not be Jaha, or the Chancellors who had come before him. Abby would not sacrifice the many to save a scant few who just  _ happened  _ to have a personal connection to her. It would be the epitome of corruption, something she avoided as best she could during her term as a councilor.

In the meantime, Abby now had nothing more to work on. She’d proven the Ark could survive on Earth. Now it was up to Jake and Raven to figure out an impossible problem. Perhaps even more impossible than their original life support issue. All this way they had come, and now they were stopped short. All that was left for Abby to do was keep up her roles and chief medical officer and councilor.

It was her councilor’s hat that she had to bear today. Abby wasn’t looking forward to it. She’d grown to resent these sessions. Thelonious was sitting right in front of her in them, pretending that nothing was wrong. Allowing the rest of the councilors, except Kane, to believe that they were still trudging on in their pursuit to keep the Ark going for a few more generations. It was a disgrace.  _ He  _ was a disgrace. Abby had not wanted to inform the rest of the Ark of their issues, but the council? The council should have known almost immediately. Abby, Jake, and Raven could have still conducted their clandestine experiments. If there was one thing the last five months had proven, it was that it was very  _ easy  _ to do whatever one wanted to if they knew the right people. And Abby had apparently known the right people. However, had the council been informed, Jake  _ could  _ have gotten those extra eyes he had so wanted, the extra perspective to help them tackle this problem.

Speaking of Jake, he was not in engineering. Abby had been making her way to the council’s chambers, and he was standing right outside the door, Sinclair with him.

“Jake?” She asked in confusion. He had been spending  _ so much  _ of his time lately, obsessing over this new problem. Abby did not think anything or anyone besides herself, and Raven’s occasional troublemaking, would get his mind off his work. She had the sinking feeling that he had not been called here voluntarily.

But it was Sinclair who answered her. “Do you know what this is about, Dr. Griffin? Jake and I were summoned by Jaha.”

The way he glanced at Jake gave away the suspicion Sinclair had that Jake did actually know why they were there. Abby couldn’t blame him. Jake’s shoulders were tense, and he looked distinctly unhappy, something that was rather uncharacteristic for him.

“I have a feeling,” she answered tightly.

Four months, and Thelonious had not tried to wrest back control from her. He had been uncomfortably quiet, in fact. Now Abby was wondering if this was his attempt to usurp her control over the situation. He was throwing his cards on the table, probably hoping that at least some of the councilors would back him.

Abby’s stomach roiled as she sat at the councilor’s table. She had no idea how this would go. There were three extra chairs in the room. Two were presumably for Sinclair and Jake. Abby wondered at the third. One by one, the councilors made their way inside. Each of them, even Kane, shot curious looks at their guests and Abby knew then that this was specifically Jaha’s doing. Kane hadn’t even been informed. Abby wondered at that. Her rage towards him had cooled into a pool of moderate dislike. It was clear that Kane seemed to regret his the part he played in this, however until he actually did something about it, Abby was content to narrow her eyes at him from across the room.

It was childish, but Abby took some enjoyment by the tight frown he gave her in response.

Two of the three chairs were set on Abby’s side of the table, the third was right next to the seat Thelonious usually occupied. Jake and Sinclair chose the two next to her without a second thought. They seemed distinctly uncomfortable being here—not many people outside the council were ever invited to closed sessions—and stuck together. Partners in engineering and in warding off politicians, it seemed.

She had no way of knowing that Sinclair and Jake had the right idea until Thelonious and the third guest entered the room. Abby’s heart immediately sank.

Diana Sydney. The very same Diana Sydney who Abby and Thelonious had  _ both  _ fought so hard against as councilors during her term of office. The same Diana Sydney who Abby had helped Jaha campaign against to oust her from office. And he had brought her in. Thelonious had actually  _ invited her in. _

Diana’s sharp, and slightly amused gaze, let Abby know that she was very aware of just how uncomfortable she suddenly was.

At least half the council went still at her appearance. Jake looked almost sick, and even Kane had tightened his jaw. Well, at least Kane had  _ some  _ semblance of morality if he was apparently unwilling to work with her.

“Thank you all for coming,” Jaha said, starting the meeting without much fanfare. Diana took her seat next to him with a seemingly friendly smile. It didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m afraid this session is going to have to push back a few topics on our agenda today. Something has come up.”

Abby and Jake traded an unimpressed look with each other.  _ ‘Something has come up?!’  _ Was that all he could muster for this?

“What’s this about, Thelonious?” Cole asked curiously.

“The Ark is failing,” Jaha answered bluntly, shocking the rest of the council into silence. Abby, Kane, and Jake the select few who simply watched the rest of them react.

“What?!” Cole sputtered out eventually.

“Jake and Sinclair can explain the problem better than I can,” Thelonious said before more questions could spring up.

Abby had her own questions. Sinclair knew as well? How? And when did he find out? She wished she had known about this, his help could have gone a long way.

Jake looked at her, and Abby knew that he was asking her whether or not they should lay out their own cards. Abby did not want the council knowing about their discoveries. Not yet, but she also had the sinking suspicion for why Diana was here. Diana Sydney was certainly charismatic. She had managed to keep an astonishing amount of support, especially among the working class, despite the corruption scandal that had occurred during her term. Thelonious had been more than happy accepting her aid in defeating Diana for the Chancellor’s pin. Abby suspected that he had now turned to Diana to defeat Abby for the Ark’s survival.

“Just the Ark, and what he did,” she whispered, far too quietly for the rest of the room to hear, though she gained a few curious looks regardless.

Her husband nodded resolutely, and Abby  _ almost  _ suspected that she saw a curious gleam of vengeance in Jake’s eye before he schooled his expression. That surprised her. Jake was not a vengeful man, however just as Abby was willing to allow the Ark to die in order to protect Clarke, Jake was apparently more than willing to throw Jaha to the wolves for what he did to their daughter. Abby could certainly find no fault with Jake’s feelings when she felt the same, with an added dash of murderous fury, towards their former friend.

“The life support is failing,” Jake told them. “It won’t be able to filter oxygen in another year and a half. We can’t fix it, I’ve looked at the problem in every way that I could, but there’s nothing to do anymore.”

Sinclair nodded beside him. “Jake’s right. We’ll suffocate eventually.”

“Jake,” Diana said as she leaned forward. “Why didn’t you go the the council about this? Why did you try to hide it? I’ve had to use my own resources just to find out what you knew in order to tell Thelonious what was happening. Hiding this is trea—”

_ “NO!”  _ Abby roared out, standing so quickly that her chair slammed to the ground. All eyes snapped to her, stunned by her unusual display of rage. “Don’t you  _ dare!  _ We aren’t to blame for this, we didn’t decide to hide this from the council. That was  _ you!”  _ She shouted at Thelonious.

She couldn’t believe this. They were going to try pinning this on her and Jake. Jaha was actually going to try taking  _ her whole family  _ to save himself. Abby no longer felt sick towards his actions. It seemed  _ nothing  _ was beyond him now, he would do whatever he needed to in order to preserve his position. No, Abby didn’t feel sick. She felt  _ angry. _

“Jake never came to me with it,” Thelonious said evenly. “He didn’t even tell Sinclair. Diana and I had to approach him ourselves about Jake’s suspicious movements throughout the station. We tried to find out what you both were doing, but you encrypted everything. Sinclair had to start from the very beginning to find out what was wrong. He could have been trying to save the Ark in that time. We’re  _ here  _ to determine  _ exactly  _ how much the both of you know, what you have been doing in medical and engineering since you discovered this, and then determine whether you’re guilty of treason.”

It wasn’t until now that Abby noticed the tight set to Sinclair’s jaw. The looks he’d been giving Jake were more akin to glares. Thelonious and Diana had  _ lied  _ to him, and turned him against Jake. This maneuver was clear. Abby and Jake had proven themselves to be more trouble than they were worth. Thelonious was going to try to  _ force  _ them into giving away what they had learned, what their plan was, by using the council. And then he was going to float them.

Abby  _ was not  _ going to take that lying down. “No. That’s a  _ lie.  _ Jake went to him from the very beginning,” she told the room. “He told Thelonious  _ everything.” _

“I wanted to tell the entire Ark,” Jake said tiredly, realizing the same significance about this that Abby had. “I threatened to go public with it. Thelonious has been  _ blackmailing  _ us for the past five months. Our daughter has been in lockup for five months. If we didn’t keep this to ourselves while we worked to find a way through this, he would float her when she turned eighteen.”

The other council members all traded looks with one another at their testimony. It seemed they were conflicted about who to believe. Even Sinclair was staring at Jake with a furrowed brow and a frown to match. Everyone knew Clarke had been arrested. It wasn’t everyday a councilor’s child was, let alone the Chancellor’s son. Both Wells and Clarke were common knowledge. Yet, no one apparently knew what Clarke or Wells had done to get into the Skybox. Abby hoped the rest of the council would make the correct conclusions as to why that was.

“Clarke was arrested for stealing rations,” Thelonious maintained. “And then assaulted a guard when she was apprehended. Her charges are a completely separate matter from this. You’ve hidden this from us all to guarantee either a pardon for her or for the council to pass her review, haven’t you?”

The other councilor’s faces hardened, and Abby watched in disbelief as they all seemed to take Thelonious’s accusations at face value. How was this happening right now? How could they lose everything, lose  _ Clarke,  _ like this? She and Jake were going to be floated. And then Clarke would follow them in that fate with no one left to fight for her.

“That’s not true,” Kane, the  _ last  _ voice Abby expected to hear right now, bit out suddenly. He was standing now as well, and was shooting Jaha a look of utter disgust. “You ordered me to arrest Clarke to keep Jake under control. You’ve known about the oxygen crisis this entire time, you told me Clarke Griffin was being detained for a reason, that she would be  _ cleared  _ when this was over _.  _ That was the  _ only  _ reason I arrested her. On  _ your  _ testimony. I  _ had  _ no evidence that she was stealing rations. I can’t do this anymore, Thelonious. It’s gone on long enough. You told me this was for the  _ Ark.  _ That we needed Jake and Abby to help us fix this. I only ever went with this plan to help our people, but now you’re trying to execute the only two people who can actually save them. I  _ won’t  _ let that happen.”

The silence that engulfed the room was deafening.  _ No one  _ had ever expected Marcus Kane to come to the defense of Dr. Abby Griffin. He and Abby were  _ well  _ known adversaries, particularly within the last five months. Five months since they had all learned that he had arrested her daughter. Five months since Thelonious had started to blackmail them. Abby watched as Jaha and Diana both stared at Kane in anger, apparently they had expected him to continue his silence. She watched the rest of the council look back at Jaha, this time their expressions varying from disgust to betrayal.

In that moment, Abby felt every last dark feeling she had felt towards Kane drain away. She was  _ stunned  _ that he had actually backed up his words from their earlier confrontation.

_ Marcus Kane  _ had just saved her daughter’s life. He’d just saved Jake’s life.

Diana schooled her expression in record time. “That’s not what I was lead to believe,” she said, shooting Thelonious an imperious glare. Abby watched his eyes widen in surprise. She didn’t know  _ why  _ he hadn’t expected Diana to turn on him. “He came to me for help, asked me to find out what I could about your actions,” she nodded at Jake. “I thought you were betraying us all. I’m sorry.”

Abby had to bite her lip to keep the sneer she wanted to make off her face. Kane had only implicated Jaha. No one truly knew how involved Diana actually was, Abby didn’t know how involved she was. But she suspected. Abby was under no impression that Diana  _ didn’t  _ know everything. That was probably her price to help Jaha in the first place. But without proof, there was no way to blame her.

Thelonious’s face turned from surprise to a cold anger. Before any of the council could begin to turn on him, he stood up. “Enough of this. We’re in a moment of unprecedented disaster. I did everything I had to in order to buy us as much time as possible. I would like to apologize to the Griffins for what they’ve had to sacrifice, but I have not asked them to risk something that  _ I  _ wasn’t willing to do in return.  _ My son  _ is in the Skybox. He could be floated in two years. The Ark could die in two years. We cannot forget what is truly at stake.  _ Humanity  _ is at risk of dying forever. I must think of  _ everyone.  _ Not just my son, or my friends, or myself. We cannot afford to be selfish.”

It was clear no one expected this  _ almost  _ impassioned speech from Jaha. Looking around the room, Abby could spot enough councilors nodding begrudgingly to know that a vote of no confidence would not pass. It would have been her last resort to take Jaha out of this horrible situation, but now it was clear that Abby would not be able to take that course. It was also more than clear to her that she had two enemies to watch out for. Diana was eyeing Thelonious curiously, and perhaps even a little impressed. Suddenly she feared that it would be the three of them vying for control over the fate of the Ark. Over Clarke’s fate. Because  _ all  _ of Abby’s actions eventually made their way back to Clarke. He daughter was the only reason she was fighting so hard.

And this fight was only growing more complicated by the day.

“We need whatever it is you and Jake discovered, Abby,” Cole told her after a long silence.

She placed her hand on Jake’s thigh under the table, squeezing softly. She would lead this conversation. Her mind was working quickly. There  _ had  _ to be a way for her to salvage this situation. A way to regain control, to get what she wanted. To get  _ Clarke. _

Perhaps there was a way to do all of that and more.

“One of the unavoidable discoveries Jake and I have made is the fact that there is  _ no  _ saving the Ark,” she said evenly. “Our  _ only  _ choice to survive this is Earth.”

_ “What?!”  _ Fuji exclaimed for the rest, Abby could tell they were all thinking the exact same thing. “Earth is an irradiated  _ wasteland.  _ It will  _ stay  _ that way for the next century! There  _ is  _ no going back! If the Ark is actually dying, then suffocating up here would be worlds better than dying of radiation exposure!”

Diana was grinning at her sharply. “Oh, I doubt that  _ now.  _ Dr. Griffin, what  _ exactly _ is in all those files you have encrypted?”

Abby leveled a narrowed glare at her. This was absolutely transparent on Diana’s part. For all of her and Jaha’s political blustering today, Abby and Jake still held all the cards. They held  _ all  _ of the information the Ark needed to survive. Abby would not be throwing away that leverage easily, if at all.

“Nothing that a very  _ select  _ few on the Ark would actually be able to understand,” she answered. “Treason or not, those files will  _ stay  _ encrypted until I am absolutely happy with our attempts to save  _ everyone  _ on this station.”

A furor ensued over her words. Everyone with the exceptions of Kane, Diana, Jaha, Jake, and Sinclair all shouting for what Abby actually knew. She wasn’t going to budge.

Eventually they ran out of accusations and shouts towards her. One by one, Abby stared directly at them. They probably saw her as the villain right now, and they were probably now agreeing with Thelonious that Abby had  _ needed  _ to be controlled, that perhaps taking Clarke hadn’t been so horrible as they first thought.

“This isn’t just about Clarke,” Abby finally said. “It started that way, I’ll admit. It’s  _ still  _ that way for the most part. However, hiding what we’ve found out has become more important than we ever would have imagined. Should I tell them about how we only have enough ships for  _ seven hundred  _ people to return to return to Earth, or would you both like to shed more light on that?” Abby said, staring down Diana and Thelonious in equal measure.

Thelonious seemed to almost pale as her words washed over the room.

Diana took over for him. “I’ll admit, that information has been classified for the past ninety-seven years. We’ve known of this flaw from the very beginning. It was our hope that over the next two centuries the Exodus Initiative could be refined, we could fix those flaws, and we could all go home when the time came. It has been more difficult than we expected it to be.”

It was Sinclair’s angry voice that suddenly rang out next. “More difficult?” He scoffed.  _ “Of course,  _ it was going to be more difficult! We have  _ no raw materials  _ on the Ark! There  _ is  _ no way to build more ships!”

The implication of his words were very clear, and Abby knew that they had all realized what she had.

The many had always been planned to be sacrificed for the few.

Cole suddenly slammed his hands to the table. “This is enough,” he ground out. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re all playing,” he glared at her, Diana, and Thelonious in turn, “but this is  _ enough.  _ What do you know, Dr. Griffin?”

“This isn’t a game to me, Cole,” Abby said. “I would have done everything I could to help the Ark, if I had been  _ asked.  _ Instead Jake and I were forced to resort to all this. In case you’ve all forgotten, whether our daughter was arrested or not, she’d  _ still  _ have died with us all on the Ark if we did nothing to help. But now she’s at risk to being floated. And if that happens, what do we have to fight for? If you want our files, Clarke  _ will  _ be pardoned. Jake and I will be pardoned. Our partner and her loved ones will be pardoned.  _ Wells  _ will be pardoned. We’re going to  _ stop  _ floating those kids in the Skybox for the stupidest reasons. The Ark is dying regardless. Our only choice is the ground, and if we ever make there, we won’t  _ have  _ a reason to kill everyone who so much as steps out of line. One hundred and three lives for nearly three thousand. That’s our price.”

Diana sighed, as if she was resigned to deliver some bad news. Abby  _ hated  _ her. “Your, Jake’s, and your… ‘partner’s’ pardons can be voted on, and likely given. What has Thelonious told you about the Chancellor’s pardon? He can’t give Clarke or the rest of the children in the Skybox pardons unless they are for a reason. He would have had to state those reasons for the rest of the council. The system is in place to prevent the Chancellor from pardoning too many people in his term. We have limited resources, after all. Clarke’s pardon was never guaranteed. In fact, it wasn’t very likely at all.  _ You  _ can be pardoned, you’ve done invaluable work for the Ark. We still need you both to help with this crisis.”

Abby felt her thoughts stutter to a stop. Thelonious had  _ lied  _ to them. She had  _ known  _ she couldn’t trust him to keep his word. She  _ knew  _ that she shouldn’t have left Clarke’s life in his hands. She’d worked  _ so hard  _ for this. They all had. And now she was learning that it could have all been for nothing. In that moment, Abby knew that Diana was not lying to her. None of the other councilors were speaking out against her words. It was ironic, wasn’t it? Her  _ friend,  _ the man she’d spent nearly twenty years respecting, listening to, voting for, raising their children with, had lied to them more than  _ Diana Sydney. _

Clarke couldn’t stay here. She was going to  _ die  _ unless Abby thought of something  _ now  _ to convince the council that she deserved to survive.

Clarke couldn’t stay  _ here. _

“We don’t know if Earth is survivable,” Abby lied quickly, throwing everyone around her for a loop. She was seemingly changing the subject on a whim. “You  _ need  _ everyone in this room to keep the Ark running for as long as it can. But we have one hundred kids who are currently sitting in lockup doing  _ nothing  _ but draining what little resources we have. I  _ suspect  _ that Earth is more survivable than we thought. For the past five months, I’ve been conducting blood tests to determine our radiation resistance. It’s much higher than we thought. It’s  _ possible  _ that we can survive on Earth in it’s current radiation level. We don’t have to wait for the half-life of the bombs to reach the point we had always thought they needed to reach.”

Fuji seemed to have recovered from his previous indignation. “But you don’t  _ know?”  _ He grimaced. “We can’t just blindly send down people to check if we’ll die on Earth. We don’t even have the ships to spare for those kids, apparently.”

“Well, what would you like to do instead?” Abby challenged. “Pray and hope for the best that the Ark will suddenly regain its ability to filter oxygen? Because that’s not an option we have. You’re right, we  _ can’t  _ just send people down to Earth and hope for the best. Those kids are supposed to get floated when they turn eighteen, right? Most of them? I  _ know  _ that they at least have a chance to survive down there. Better than what they would have right now, they’re all dead if they get floated or if we can’t save the Ark. They have  _ no options.  _ We can give them something better than a hopeless future. None of them can be pardoned unless they can do something in service for the Ark, right? That  _ is  _ what Diana just told us. Here’s their chance to do that.”

Their chance to actually make it at all. Abby knew that if she gave away that Earth was perfectly survivable, and that she had concrete proof, then there would be absolutely  _ no way  _ that any of the kids in the Skybox would ever get one of those seven hundred seats.

Sinclair sighed beside her. “We  _ can  _ send them down to Earth in one of the ships. But it would take a lot of time to make one of the dropships ready for reentry. None of the ships, escape pods, or dropships have been used in a century. We’ve kept up maintenance for them, of course, but upkeep is a lot different than actually sending them on a mission. I would have to inspect one from top to bottom, repair absolutely  _ anything  _ that comes up, and make any kind of adjustments for what we want to do. We only have a year and a half.”

“And are you absolutely  _ certain  _ that the children have a higher resistance to radiation?” Diana asked. “Thelonious tells me you have been visiting Clarke. Usually under the guise of a medical exam. We’re those exams part of your experiments? Is  _ Clarke  _ the only one you’ve managed to confirm to have a higher tolerance? Sinclair, how long would it take to get a dropship ready in comparison to an escape pod?”

Diana had an ugly gleam to her eye, and Abby felt her blood run cold. Was she suggesting….

“Six months for all the dropships. I wouldn’t be just focusing on one. We have limited time. But I’d only need one for an escape pod,” Sinclair answered, though his jaw was tightened, and he was staring at Diana with no small measure of distaste. Abby wasn’t the only one who was realizing what she was actually asking.

“We don’t have to be enemies,” Diana said to the entire room before Abby could tear into her. “We need to work together. There’s a way for us all to survive, I  _ know  _ there is. Abby and Jake want their daughter pardoned, we want to save the Ark. We can all get what we want. I don’t know about you all, but I’m not yet confident in Dr. Griffin’s analysis. We don’t yet have to risk the lives of one hundred children, though a sacrifice will have to be made all the same if we hope to survive this and get to Earth. If Clarke can survive the six months it would take for Sinclair to finish preparing a dropship, we can send down the rest of the Skybox.”

“Wait,” Kaplan protested, speaking up for the first time this meeting. “Why does Clarke Griffin have to be the one at risk? I don’t want to pretend that this wouldn’t be anything more than punishing Jake and Abby for their actions by sending down  _ their  _ daughter. There are actual murderers in the Skybox. Kids who have committed  _ worse  _ crimes than Clarke Griffin.”

“Clarke is guilty of committing high treason,” Thelonious answered. “She’s not better off than a great many in the Skybox. She’d be floated for her crimes in a vote, there’s no pretending otherwise. She’d earn her pardon if we send her down. Jake and Abby  _ would  _ get what they want.”

“No,” Jake growled out. “This isn’t what we wanted, don’t even  _ try  _ pretending that. You’d send her down  _ by herself  _ with little to no resources. That’s a  _ suicide mission.” _

“Are you saying that you and Dr. Griffin are more than willing to ask one hundred other children to risk something you wouldn’t want your own daughter to go through? Is Earth as survivable as you thought or not? There’s a very simple solution to all of this. We can’t allow your favor towards Clarke to continue harming the Ark.”

Cole coughed uncomfortably. “We could send her with supplies. A radio. She won’t be thrown down there with  _ nothing.” _

Abby gaped at them all. She would lose this vote, she knew that immediately.

Kane shook his head. “This is insane. I arrested Clarke Griffin for taking a few too many  _ pencils.  _ The ‘treason’ you’re all condemning her for is because she’s aware of the Ark’s crisis, nothing more.”

“A sixteen year old being aware of the Ark falling apart isn’t something we need right now,” Thelonious told them. “Jake was already barely kept from releasing this news to the entire Ark. We cannot depend on Clarke to do the same. She may not even understand why it’s so important to keep this within only this room right now. We  _ cannot  _ afford a panic at this stage. It’s unfortunate, and this risk we’d be asking her to take is certainly not because Clarke Griffin did anything intentionally malicious. She’s a casualty of poor circumstances. This vote will be whether to  _ both  _ pardon her and to send her to Earth. If she can survive, she’ll be considered a damn hero. Clarke Griffin is guilty for treason, but we  _ can  _ count on her to be responsible enough to actually care for the Ark. She wouldn’t abandon us like many others in the Skybox. She’ll want to keep her parents safe.

“This may be our only option at the moment. We need to move quickly, we need to prove that we can live on Earth. If this vote passes, this will take us one step closer to saving humanity. All in favor?” Thelonious finished solemnly.

She felt numb, sick, and  _ tired  _ all in one breath as one by one, all the councilors, save Kane and herself, voted to send Clarke to Earth  _ alone. _ Jake’s hand was tightly gripped in her own as they both watched their daughter receive a death sentence.

Abby had  _ failed.  _ Diana and Thelonious had thoroughly and completely beaten her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm not gonna lie, a great chunk of this chapter is a shameless time skip. I figured this would be a lot more interesting than reading some more about the endless lab work Abby would have been doing, and her other visits with a mopey Clarke. Her next visit will be more interesting than the past three or four combined, rest assured. Also, I'm aware of just how long it's taking Clarke to get an opportunity to actually do anything in this story. My last estimate was very wrong about when she'd get to Earth, it's taking a while to get the Ark story... arc fixed up. So... I'm not going to really make another. My mental outline is a bit convoluted and shouldn't be used to measure anything, lol. Take comfort, though, that it's coming Soon(TM).
> 
> Now, the council session. I'm a big fan of factions. Diana and Thelonious are allies of convenience. I have no doubt that they're willing to turn on each other and then realign in the next moment if they both thought they could get something from the arrangement. However, they are still actually in this for different reasons. It's really Diana vs Jaha vs Abby at the moment in a three way showdown. And I have a lot of plans to continue developing different factions with different goals throughout this story. I got a very interesting question about the delinquent's role in this story if all the adults are suddenly more sane then they were in the show. That's the fun part. ^_^ Abby and Marcus, the remaining 100, Clarke and Lexa, Pike, and others will all have their own goals, and their own motivations. Who will align with each other? Who would become enemies? It would have made a shit ton of more sense in the show if they wrote different groups actively working with or against one another rather than having entire groups of people sitting on their asses for Clarke to rush in to save them.
> 
> Lexa. Yes, she is indeed tagged in a story she hasn't appeared in. 36k+ words and she's had nary a mention. Sorry about that, guys. I wanted to reassure you all that this IS a Clexa story from the very beginning. I'm not a big fan of giving shippers false hopes in fics. Long fics are a long term commitment. I have a ton of plans for Lexa, starting with introducing her Flame story line a LOT earlier than the S3 mentions. If a good chunk of chapters are going to be in her point of view, which they will be, then she's going to think about all the voices in her head keeping her company at least sometimes. I don't know exactly WHEN she appears, but I will say that there HAS to be a reason she was so damned willing to cut Skaikru a break over and over and OVER again that isn't completely due to Clarke's wishes. At least, there SHOULD have been a reason. And I'm going to give her one. Which will require her presence a bit earlier in this story chronologically than she appears in the show. She's coming Soon(TM) as well. Clexa, however, might just be a while off. This is the slowest of slow burns right now, as this story is about literally everyone. I think the pay off will be worth it, though.


	8. Eight

The very moment Raven strode into Engineering, she knew something was wrong. For one thing, Wick was nowhere to be seen. His stupid presence was nearly always a given for Raven’s visits. Always challenging her, insisting _he_ was the brighter one out of the two of them. As if. _Wick_ hadn’t been in the know about a civilization ending disaster, now was he? Nope.

Sure, he _was_ pretty good at what he did, but Raven was better. And she was _never_ going to tell Wick that she thought he wasn’t _completely_ stupid. She didn’t want to imagine what it would do to his insufferable ego.

She ignored any thoughts on the subject of her own ego. Raven was awesome, she knew it, everyone around her knew it, it was simply a matter of fact.

At any rate, Wick wasn’t the only reason Raven knew something was wrong. Abby was in Engineering instead of Wick. Doc hadn’t been visiting them nearly as often since she’d finished up her blood testing program. Unfortunately, she was left to sit on her hands for a good long time while Raven and Jake worked on mechanic and engineering things. So, she’d gone back to her actual duties to avoid inviting unpleasant questions. Raven was certain the subject hadn’t come up before as most people would probably assume that Abby and Jake were seeing each other more often during their workdays to cope with their daughter’s arrest.

Deduction number three as to why Raven knew something was wrong. Abby’s eyes were nearly bloodshot. _That_ was a testament to the wrongness of the situation more than everything else combined. It took a lot to get under the Doc’s skin. Raven assumed it was a doctor thing. Abby couldn’t exactly be a stranger to tragedy in _that_ line of work. So if Abby had been crying, it was probably about Clarke, and if it was about Clarke…. Raven felt her stomach sinking at that thought.

Finally, _Sinclair_ was sitting with both Abby and Jake. If Raven could literally count the amount of times Abby had cried in front of her with two fingers, then it was a hell of a sight to witness the aftermath with _Sinclair_ with them too. She assumed the Doc wasn’t one to really get into the waterworks with witnesses if she could help it. Raven and Jake were a little different for the whole clandestine spy-shit bond they’d all formed, and the fact that Jake was the one who was actually hitched to her.

“Okay,” she said, invoking her bravado. _Hopefully_ things were fine. Hopefully this was the result of a patient dying or something. Sure, that was a shitty alternative all the same, but Raven didn’t want to think about the Griffins losing their kid after all she’d been through with them. “I’m _pretty sure_ you all could take home the trophy for ‘World’s Most Depressing Party’ right now. What’s got everyone so mopey?”

Sinclair was the one who looked up at her, and _he_ looked more guilty than Raven had ever seen the man. “Nothing, Reyes. Don’t worry about it. I think Wick could use your help in Farm Station right now, though.”

Oh fuck.

“What happened to Clarke?” She demanded. “Sinclair, I know everything, so don’t go pawning me off to _Wick._ What did the council do? Or was it Chancellor Douche?”

They didn’t answer her, and Raven felt her sinking feeling grow even bigger. Jake was staring off into nothing, and Abby apparently wasn’t doing much better. Whatever happened, Raven knew in that second that they weren’t actively ignoring her.

They looked shell-shocked.

“I’m guessing you’re the ‘partner’ they were talking about in the meeting,” Sinclair said with a humorless chuckle. “Should have guessed. There’s no way you wouldn’t have found a way to stick your nose into this. You seem to _love_ trouble, Reyes.”

“Sinclair, what _happened?”_ Raven asked, a bit of desperation tinging her voice. She didn’t care for once. Raven _hated_ showing when shit started getting to her, but this seemed _big._ And it wasn’t about her. Jake and Abby had been through enough. Shit, _Clarke_ had been through enough. She was _really_ hoping that things hadn’t gotten even worse for them.

“The council,” Sinclair paused for a moment, rubbing his face. “They voted to send Clarke down to Earth. To prove it was survivable. Alone.”

_What._

_The._

_Fuck._

“To prove—They actually—” Raven was choking on her words. It was a novel experience for her, she always knew what to say. Even if it was bullshit sometimes. _“What?!”_

“We’ve lost her,” Abby whispered softly.

Raven didn’t have the greatest relationship with her mother. In fact, she hadn’t really spoken with her in at _least_ two years. The woman could have finally drank herself to death, and Raven would be none the wiser. However, she knew then that her mother had been even shittier with her than Raven had ever thought. Abby’s face seemed so _devastated._ Raven was struck by the intensity of the pure loss in Abby’s eyes. _Her_ mother would have _never_ been capable of caring that much about her, of actually loving Raven enough to ever _think_ that losing Raven would hurt her like this.

It made her feel like shit just looking at Abby. But not because Raven really wished her own mother could have ever been different. That ship had taken off, rocketed past Pluto, and gave two middle fingers towards Raven as it thrustered into deep space, never to be seen again a long, long time ago. No, instead she felt like shit because Raven couldn’t even _begin_ to know where to start to help Abby and Jake. This kind of loss was just beyond her realm of experience. Raven didn’t know how to grieve. She was far better at telling the world to go fuck itself and soldiering past her problems as if they didn’t exist.

She decided to stick with her strengths.

“No,” she gritted out. “We are _not_ going to let those assholes win. We _know_ that Earth is survivable, Abby. You’ve proven it. We’ve got a damn video of somebody smashing our drone to bits, for fuck’s sake! We can go the council, throw that footage down right in front of their smug, cowardly faces, and _make_ them release Clarke.”

“You have _WHAT?!”_ Sinclair exclaimed.

Raven ignored him for now. He wouldn’t tell anyone. Sinclair was cool like that.

But Abby was shaking her head. “It’s too late for that. I was trying to save them all. Clarke, Finn, Wells, all of them. Diana and Jaha twisted my words. Clarke was pardoned today. But only because she’s getting sent to Earth. The rest of the Skybox will follow her if she can survive. If we go to them now about the footage, they’ll leave those kids up here when the Exodus Initiative is activated. No one will want to sacrifice what few ships we have to a bunch of criminals.” She seemed to choke back a sob. “God, we’ve failed her twice. This is _my fault.”_

Jake broke his staring contest with the wall. “You did the best you could, Abby.” His voice was flat, emotionless. “We had no idea Diana would push for this. Clarke’s still being used against us. She knows we won’t release our files to her, so she sent Clarke down. Now we’re _forced_ to help the Ark get to Earth if we ever want to see her again.”

“We _won’t_ ever see her again if she dies down there!” Abby shouted, tears leaking down her face with her outburst. “We have _no idea_ what it’s actually like down there. There are _people,_ and we have _no idea_ if they’re hostile or not. Clarke is going to be _alone._ No one will be there to help her. Earth Skills is a damn _joke._ We can teach our kids whatever we want in that class, but it’s obvious we were only fooling ourselves. We could have returned to Earth a long time ago. We’ve been _wrong_ about so many things! You said it yourself, this is a suicide mission! She would have had a _chance_ with the other kids from the Skybox supporting each other. But….”

Earth. The Skybox was going to be sent to _Earth._ Raven’s mind raced with the different implications with this development. She could see why Abby had pushed for it in the first place. She was right, there was no way Finn was ever going to get a seat down with his record. A record he didn’t actually earn. Getting the Skybox kids to Earth would get them out of the reach of the council and Chancellor Dickhead. It would probably even get them all pardons. If this actually panned out, _no one_ on the Ark right now would ever have to be floated again. They’d save everyone from that crappy fate.

But right now, she had her inconsolable friends to think of.

“Hey,” Raven said walking closer to Abby. She wasn’t really a hugger, so she was left with grabbing onto Abby’s shoulder. “Clarke’s smart. She has to be with you two around to make her that way. If _anyone_ out of those Skybox idiots, you know… _besides_ Clarke… can actually make it down there, it’s her. We’ll _make sure_ she can live down there. We did _so much_ without letting the council hear so much as a whisper about it. We can do more. Fuck this place. The Ark’s dead in the water. Stick as many rations, supplies, tech, _whatever_ in her pod and we can give her a hell of a chance to survive. We won’t need that shit up here. The council, the _chancellor_ can pound sand. We’ll do this _our way._ Because our way’s the only damned way that’s gotten us anywhere for the past five months. That Diana bitch can go fuck herself. Clarke will prove them all wrong.”

Raven wasn’t one for impassioned speeches, but if there was ever a time for her to start, it was now. There was _no way_ she was going to let them give up after all they’d done. Things were shitty, okay, maybe even more than that, but it wasn’t as if they were just swimming in good fortune to start with. Raven was used to dealing with crappy circumstances, in fact sometimes she wondered if some cosmic dealer was playing a loaded deck against her. But Raven was certainly smart enough to count cards. If she couldn’t win outright, she’d damn well make sure she got _something_ out of the hand she was given.

It was that determination to spit on the circumstances she was given that had the room staring at her. Certainly, the Griffins weren’t about to do a complete one-eighty and glow with newfound hope, but Raven could spot _at least_ some anger back in their eyes. Good, a nice, simmering grudge was absolutely better for concentration than complete despair. Sinclair was just looking at her as if he couldn’t believe she was capable of giving a good pep talk. She nearly rolled her eyes at him.

“We’ve got three of the highest ranking professionals on the entire Ark in this room,” Sinclair finally said. “Reyes is right. We can put whatever we want in Clarke’s escape pod, and Reyes can damn well make sure whatever contraband we get can’t be found.”

Jake’s attention snapped to Sinclair, his heavy gaze now at least lined with curiosity. “I didn’t think you’d much to do with us after that meeting.”

“And work with _Diana Sydney?”_ Sinclair snorted. “No. I shouldn’t have listened to her as much as I did in the first place. I should have just asked you what was going on. Instead you got blindsided with her involvement and Clarke’s getting sent to Earth. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Sinclair. We know you aren’t as sharp as the rest of us. You’re forgiven,” Raven told him, smirking.

“Watch it, Reyes. I can partner you with Wick for the next week if you aren’t careful.”

“We shouldn’t have kept you in the dark for so long, Sinclair,” Abby told him, ignoring their banter. “Your help could have gone a long way. It still can, we’re thankful for anything you can give us.” She sighed. “But even if we can give Clarke an excess of supplies, we still don’t know _anything_ about the people living down there.”

Sinclair shook his head in wonder. “I’m going to need to see this footage you have at some point. There are people _living on the ground!”_

“Yeah, that was our reaction too,” Raven said. “Abby’s was the funniest, though. Her face turned this red color. And then she couldn’t speak for about a good fifteen minutes. She’d get one word out, sputter, then go quiet again. It was great.”

Abby gave a watery chuckle. “Well, that’s not really fair. I didn’t get to see you and Jake’s faces.”

A _rap_ broke the fragile levity of the moment. Raven almost wanted to strangle the person behind the door. Couldn’t they see she was busy trying to comfort two of the most stubborn people in existence? Raven didn’t think she was the best at this to begin with, add on the possibility that Abby and Jake could have well decided to latch onto their shitty feelings and refuse to let go, and she thought she was doing pretty damn good.

She huffed and went to the door. Raven _swore_ if this was Wick she’d tear him a new asshole.

Instead the door _hissed_ open to reveal Kane.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Raven snapped before he could even so much as open his mouth. “Come to arrest me for taking a few too many screws? No wait, Doc, the jig is up! He’s caught on to your dastardly plan to give sick kids a few extra vitamins!”

Kane was irritatingly calm in the face of her sarcasm. In fact, Raven _almost_ thought he was grimacing. That would probably be wishful thinking, she knew. To think, she’d very nearly gotten Abby and Jake’s mood off of rock bottom, and _this_ asshole shows up. The one guy who’d actually dragged their kid off right in front of them. Too bad she couldn’t hit him without getting floated. Oh well. Raven was the best smartass on this station. She’d make him _regret_ being in the same room as her.

But Jake took the wind right out of her sails. “It’s okay, Raven.”

“Okay?!” She scoffed. “No, he’s gotta lot of fucking _nerve_ showing up here! We’re the ones saving his sorry ass. What is it, Councilor Hardass? Unless you’re gonna float one of us, you’ve done _plenty_ of fucking damage already.”

“He voted against sending Clarke down,” Abby told her tiredly. “And kept Jaha and Diana from pinning treason charges on us.”

Raven gaped at him. She wasn’t expecting _that._

“What do you want, Kane?” Abby continued. “If you’re here to give an apology, we’re not really in the mood. You made up for arresting Clarke, you don’t have to say anything.”

But Kane shook his head. “That was nothing, Abby. Today’s session was a travesty, standing up in there was the only right thing to do. I’m here because I’d like to do something that would _actually_ help the Ark. It was the only thing I ever really wanted, but I can’t say that the chancellor’s way is doing us any favors anymore.”

“Yeah,” Raven rolled her eyes. “Who knew arresting a sixteen year old kid would actually do fuck all for the Ark in the end? The Doc and Griffin might have cooled off towards you, but I’m not convinced. You’ve only ever been a heartless asshole. A few words aren’t going to change that.”

“Raven,” Abby started.

“It’s okay,” Kane waved her off. “I’m head of the guard. She’s not the first person to get angry with me, and she won’t be the last. I’m not here to make excuses or ask anyone to forgive me. You’re all entitled to your anger. I’m here to offer what help I can. I know you’ve been sneaking throughout the entire station. It’s my job to keep up with everyone’s movements. I set the guard patrols. I have free access to any and all contraband confiscated on the Ark. Your daughter’s going to need more than whatever Jaha and Diana see fit to allocate to her. I think Kaplan was right. They aren’t going to care if Clarke ultimately succeeds or not, this is just a control measure and an opportunity for revenge in one move.”

Raven watched as Jake and Abby traded a long look with each other. She didn’t get it. _How_ could they just look past what he did? Then again, she couldn’t really believe that the King of the Hardasses would just _offer_ to aid them in breaking the law. Unless….

“Hold on. How do we know you weren’t sent by Jaha to watch us? You could be a damn double-agent,” she glared at him.

“He’s going to get us something we need,” Abby said, narrowing her eyes. “Something that would be breaking the Exodus Charter, whether he’s on Thelonious’s orders or not. Marcus, everyone in this room, save Sinclair, have broken enough laws to get floated _at least_ five times over. I’m sure you know that already. Are you prepared for that? Because Thelonious has more than proven to me today that we can’t trust him. We’re all prepared to do whatever it takes to save the Ark, and the people we care about. The Exodus Charter is no longer any of our concern. In the very near future, either we’ll all be dead, or we’ll be on Earth, and we can throw the damn thing out.”

“What do you need me to do?” Kane asked evenly. Raven wanted to punch his calm face.

“Clarke is going to need a gun down there. And a lot of ammunition,” Abby told him. “I won’t tell you why, not yet. But you’re the only person who can get that for her.”

Raven blinked in surprise. Well, it would make sense. There were unknown people on Earth, who knew if they would like to make nice with Clarke when she got there. A gun would come in handy for defense at the very least. If Kane actually did this for them, it would be considered treason. Unauthorized distribution of weapons. Not even Chancellor Dick was allowed to just hand out guns to whoever he liked. Raven knew that would require _at least_ twelve council sessions. Alright, maybe not that many, but a fuck ton at the very least.

She half expected Kane to walk out the door, and report what Abby asked of him to his shitty boss. Kane had always been known for his determination to follow every crappy rule in this place. He was a kiss-ass like that.

“Where are you going to hide it?” Kane asked. “If _anyone_ not in this room stumbles across any hiding place you put it in, they’ll report it. And if that happens, the armory will go through a comprehensive audit. Covering my tracks would only keep that kind of investigation at bay for so long.”

“We’ll worry about that,” Jake answered. “Raven, Sinclair, and I know every inch of the Ark. It’s not going to get found.”

“Alright. I can get one to you. It will have to be a pistol,” Kane warned. “Clarke isn’t trained in firearms, a rifle wouldn’t be as easy to learn. Not to mention a pistol will be easier to hide.”

The Griffins had certainly come a long way with this stuff. Four months ago, the thought of shooting a drone to Earth had them sweating buckets. But now they were discussing weapons smuggling with the head of the guard. Damn.

Raven gave herself a mental pat on the back. Jake and Abby were back in the game, and she was going to claim her pep talk had them re-moralized for the rest of her life. That was a pretty damn good speech, if she said so herself.

* * *

“What’s that?” Clarke asked warily.

She was suspicious. Her mother was acting strangely. More so than usual. Clarke could concede that her being in lockup was enough to have her mother acting weird to begin with, but her behavior was starting to worry her. It almost seemed like Abby was having a hard time looking her in the eye. She didn’t want to imagine why that was so.

Abby had brought out this odd looking bracelet. It was a dull silver, had painful looking spikes on the _inside_ of the thing and had miniscule blue lights on it. Clarke didn’t think this was going to be something she would enjoy.

Her mother paused, biting her lip, and Clarke finally had enough.

“Mom, what’s going on? You look like you’ve been sleeping about as well as I have, you won’t look at me, and you’re acting weird. What aren’t you telling me? Why was this visit so late? What _is_ that thing?” Clarke demanded in rapid fire.

“It’s a tracking device,” Abby finally said. “It works off of the very few satellites we have left, displaying the wearer’s location, as well as several vitals. It’s a prototype.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes. “Okay. So, why did you bring it here? I’m not really going anywhere for a GPS to be very helpful. And if it’s a prototype, then that means you want to make more. What are they _for?”_

It alarmed Clarke _completely_ when a tear fell from her mother’s eye. No, she wasn’t going to like this _at all._

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Abby whispered. “I tried to keep you safe, but…. Thelonious was lying to us, even more than we already thought. He was never going to pardon you.”

_“What?”_

Her stomach was roiling horribly. She was going to get floated. Clarke was going to get _floated_ because she knew something she shouldn’t. Because she liked drawing. Because she stupidly decided to kick that guard. Because her father had been naive enough to believe the Ark would support his vision of cooperation so readily.

Dimly, she realized that Abby was still speaking.

“He _can’t_ pardon you, it’s not possible without you doing something in service for the Ark. I had to tell the council Earth is survivable. You can’t stay here, I wanted to get you out of this damn cell. I wanted to keep you _safe,”_ her mother repeated thickly. “I tried to get everyone on the Skybox sent to Earth. To ‘test’ if it was survivable.”

Clarke gaped at her. She could barely believe what she was hearing. Suddenly, she resented being locked away more than ever. Clarke had the distinct feeling that she was missing something absolutely critical.

“I didn’t tell them that there are already people there. I couldn’t. If I did, they would leave you all up here. There aren’t enough ships to get everyone on the Ark back to Earth. No one would want to give seats to criminals. I tried to convince them to send you as an ‘experiment’ instead. It backfired.”

She couldn’t respond to any of this. Abby had told Clarke about the drone. It had been a shock to learn that there were people on Earth after all this time. It had her wondering what they could possibly be like. Were they peaceful? Would they be friendly? She was more than a little jealous of them. Clarke had always dreamed of Earth. Her cell walls were now covered in drawings of animals, flowers, landscapes, all the things Clarke most wanted to see if she ever had the chance. And there were people down there who had been enjoying all of it this entire time.

Every word her mother was speaking right now had dread creeping into her chest. Abby wanted to send the entire Skybox to Earth. Clarke didn’t know what to feel about that. On the one hand, it was _Earth._ It would certainly be better than languishing away this cell. On the other, she would be going down with dozens of kids she didn’t know, kids who might be _actual_ criminals compared to Clarke’s pencil heists. Were any of them good in Earth Skills? Would they even want to work together? What kind of skills would a bunch of minors have? Any potentially skilled inmate would be at the most an apprentice in their field. None of them would be old enough to have gotten too far in their training. Clarke knew a lot about medicine, but she wasn’t a doctor.

This plan was already _very_ shaky. She had no idea if her mother was trading one method of execution for another. She wasn’t very comfortable with the knowledge that Abby had been negotiating her fate so readily without talking to Clarke about it. She already felt helpless enough in solitary. She was very aware of just how _little_ control she held over her life right now. But the idea that her mother had actually argued this with the council drove that very uncomfortable fact home brutally. Clarke had _no_ say in what was going to happen to her. No opportunity to defend herself. A group of people who really didn’t know her would be voting on whether or not she deserved to die.

“They’re sending _you_ to Earth,” Abby told her quietly when Clarke didn’t answer.

That had all her thoughts screeching to a completely stop.

“What?” Clarke didn’t want to hear the implication in her mother’s words. “Who else is going?”

She didn’t want to hear what her mother was telling her. Didn’t even want to _think_ about this possibility. There was _no way._ They couldn’t do that, could they? What did _Clarke_ know about surviving down there? How could they….

But she knew.

The council could do whatever they wanted with her short of actually floating her before her eighteenth birthday. Clarke had no control over what happened to her whatsoever. It was a fact that she had grown to accept, but _this?_ This wasn’t something Clarke _ever_ imagined.

“No one else,” her mother confirmed roughly. “Just you. They claimed they didn’t want to risk the rest of the Skybox if this didn’t work. You’ve been pardoned, and you’re getting sent to Earth.”

Her mouth went completely dry.

“No,” she was shaking her head. As if denying it would make it all go away. _“No,_ Mom. This… they don’t even _care_ about the Skybox! How are they using that as an actual reason? What do they expect me to _do?!_ I don’t….”

She couldn’t continue. This _wasn’t_ happening.

It couldn’t be happening.

_How_ was her life getting even worse? Taking the fall for her father was bad enough. This was something _entirely_ different. She was going to Earth.

Alone.

“You’re the only inmate in solitary, you’ve been charged for treason, the council wasn’t going to pass your review, you’re medically trained if something happens to you,” her mother listed off, but Clarke could hear the bitterness in her voice. “Clarke, Thelonious has given the council a list of reasons why it’s ‘reasonable’ to send you down first while we get a dropship running for the rest of the kids. But none of those are the real reasons you’re going down. He believes that if you’re on Earth, your father and I will fight that much harder to see you again. He’s punishing us for hiding what we know from him. I… God, Clarke, I’m so _sorry._ This is my fault. I pushed too hard.”

Clarke sat on the floor, unable to keep herself standing. She felt…. Clarke didn’t really know _what_ she felt. Angry? Well, that was a given. Her father had gotten her locked up for threatening to reveal the Ark’s secret. And now her mother had gotten her sent on… a _hopeless_ mission because she had challenged Jaha. Clarke was beginning to accept that none of this was her fault. Every adult she’d ever relied on seemed absolutely determined to get her killed in increasingly creative ways. Intentional or not, her _parents’_ actions were getting her stuck in one horrible fate after another.

Why couldn’t this _stop?_ Clarke just wanted to go _home._ Instead she was here, listening to her mother tell her that she was nothing more than a piece in a game her parents were apparently playing with Jaha over the Ark. She _hated_ it.

Fear was another very clear emotion, just one Clarke wasn’t particularly eager to focus on. She was _afraid._ Clarke was just like everyone else on the Ark. Everything she knew about Earth was essentially second-hand information. Yet, she was expected to survive alone, for who knows how long, until the council saw fit to send down other people to help her.

“Clarke,” her mother was kneeling in front of her. She pressed a hand to the side of Clarke’s face. She barely felt it. “We’re going to do _everything_ we can to help you. We—”

“Don’t,” she choked out. “Just… _stop._ Don’t you think you’ve done enough already?”

Abby flinched at her words. “I know, but we’re trying—”

She jerked away from her mother, ignoring the almost broken look she sent her. “You’re _‘trying.’_ That’s all you’ve ever done since this started! I don’t….” She needed space. Her legs somehow managed to work enough to get her standing and walking to the other side of her cell. _“Everything_ you both do makes things worse. I don’t get it. You’ve managed to get me into something that’s worse than _floating, Mom!”_

“I know!” Her mother exclaimed. “I _know,_ Clarke. I never thought…. We never expected this to happen.”

“You’ve been saying that since I was arrested,” she shot back. “Do you expect anything at this point, or are you just guessing what will happen when you do things and hope for the best? Because _I’m_ the one who keeps getting _your_ punishments! It’s like you don’t care, _you’re_ untouchable, right?”

It was nasty, but at this point Clarke found it beyond her to care. It was like she couldn’t trust the adults around her. Her mother had been right about one thing at least. Clarke wasn’t getting _floated._

“No, that’s _not_ true,” Abby said, almost desperately. “This is…. We’ve been doing the best we can, Clarke.”

“Well it’s not been good enough!” Clarke shouted. “After all this, look at where it all got us!”

She felt tired suddenly. She’d been holding on for five months, alone in this cell, in the hopes that her parents would come through for her. She’d been _certain_ they could fix this. That was what her mother had told her practically every visit. Clarke had _always_ been able to count on them before. But now it was becoming horrifically clear that her parents weren’t infallible. Clarke now knew that she couldn’t trust them to keep her safe.

“Put the bracelet on,” she said quietly. “Then _get out.”_

There was no changing this now. Clarke knew that. She’d been on this path from the very beginning. Her ‘mission’ was clearly something that wasn’t going to change, and she knew she needed to accept that. At the very least, going to Earth would get her _away_ from the Ark. It would get her away from all these people playing with her like a pawn. Clarke could make _her own_ choices there. She could control her own life. She was probably going to end up dead down there, but she wouldn’t go down easy. Clarke _wanted_ to see the rest of the Ark come down. If only to prove that Clarke could take care of _herself._ No more counting on others to do it for her. That _clearly_ wasn’t a sound choice.

Clarke bit her lip as the metal spikes entered her wrist. She didn’t look at her mother as she tended to the device. More than anything, Clarke wanted to be alone right now.

“We love you, Clarke. I’m sorry.” Her mother paused as if she wanted to say more, but she seemed to swallow the words. Perhaps she knew just as Clarke did that there was nothing she _could_ say that would make this better.

She wished she could take comfort in her mother’s apology. Instead, Clarke was starting to feel numb. Her mother pressed a kiss to the top of her head before she left, but Clarke didn’t react to that either. She was too caught up on what was ahead of her. There was no way that Clarke _wasn’t_ going to do her best to survive this, but she wasn’t stupid. A single person getting sent to the ground with what was in all reality minimal survival training, practically zero support, and no actual experience.

Floating her might have actually been kinder.

Because Clarke knew this for what it was.

A death sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so Clarke's not yet getting to the ground, but it's coming Soon(TM). (Super soon, actually. I promised not to make any more plot predictions because of how unpredictable my crazy, convoluted plot outline is, but I can say it's almost literally on the doorstep of this story. The wait is almost over.) I had to do a few housekeeping things first. I wasn't eager to throw Clarke down with a bunch of supplies and explain it away in exposition. Especially if an important item like a gun was involved. That requires Kane to have joined... this team needs a spy name. Anyway, Kane needed to join their club and I would have liked to do that in person with one of the characters.
> 
> I also wanted to explore the differences between Raven and Clarke. They're foils to each other in this chapter. Raven is getting closer with the Griffins, she's actively defending them and their choices, empathizes with how difficult their circumstances are, and she's working as a team with them. Clarke is almost the *exact* opposite of her, point-by-point. I don't care *who* you are, if you learn you're getting sent on what's basically a suicide mission, ALONE, with no warning and no choice, you aren't going to react well. Clarke's been almost utterly alone this entire time. She hasn't had the luxury of directly witnessing everything her parents have been doing to save her. Abby's only been able to *tell* her that they're doing everything they can and then has to give her the bad news that their efforts weren't quite good enough. No matter how massive those efforts actually were. As far as Clarke is concerned, she's only seen the *results* of her parent's efforts, not what it took them to get there.
> 
> While Raven's been learning how to depend on people after a lifetime alone, or as near alone as one can get, Clarke is learning that you can't always count on someone to rush in and save you. Raven is learning how families actually work, Clarke's had her trust in her family shattered. I like comparing and contrasting characters. Raven and Clarke are a big one now, Abby and Clarke will continue big time because they're so damn similar to each other. As well as Clarke and a certain other stubborn character whose criticism in S2 I reference in Clarke's blowup with Abby. Clarke might just regret those words in time.
> 
> Also, rest assured that this is the last chapter of mopey, solitary confinement Clarke.


End file.
